Touch you, dear,

Like a fancy--to your sad heart
It would seem
That my vision passed and prayed you,
Or my dream.

Then you would look with lonely eyes--
Lift your head--
And you would stir and sigh, and say,
"She is dead."

Baffled by death and love, I lean
Through the gloom.
O Lord of life! Am I forbid
To cross the room?

HAUNTED: DON MARQUIS

A ghost is a freak of a sick man's brain?
Then why do you start and shiver so?
That's the sob and drip of a leaky drain?
But it sounds like another noise we know!
The heavy drops drummed red and slow,
The drops ran down as slow as fate--
Do ye hear them still?--it was long ago!--
But here in the shadows I wait, and wait!

Spirits there be that pass in peace;
Mine passed in a whirl of wrath and dole;
And the hour that your choking breath shall cease
I will get my grip on your naked soul--
Nor pity may stay nor prayer cajole--
I would drag ye whining from Hell's own gate:
To me, to me, ye must pay the toll!
And here in the shadows I wait, I wait!

The dead they are dead, they are out of the way?
And the ghost is a whim of an ailing mind?
Then why did ye whiten with fear to-day
When ye heard a voice in the calling wind?
Why did ye falter and look behind?
At the creeping mists when the hour grew late?
Ye would see my face were ye stricken blind!
And here in the shadows I wait, I wait!

Drink and forget, make merry and boast,
But the boast rings false and the jest is thin--
In the hour that I meet you ghost to ghost,
Stripped of the flesh that you skulk within,
Stripped to the coward soul 'ware of its sin,
Ye shall learn, ye shall learn, whether dead men hate!
Ah, a weary time has the waiting been,
But here in the shadows I wait, I wait!

"MY LOVE THAT WAS SO TRUE"

ONE OUT-OF-DOORS: SARAH PIATT

A ghost--is he afraid to be a ghost?
A ghost? It breaks my heart to think of it.
Something that wavers in the moon, at most;
Something that wanders: something that must flit
From morning, from the bird's breath and the dew.
Ah, if I knew,--ah, if I only knew!

Something so weirdly wan, so weirdly still!
O yearning lips that our warm blood can flush,
Follow it with your kisses, if you will;
O beating heart, think of its helpless hush.
Oh, bitterest of all, to feel we fear
Something that was so near, that was so dear!

No--no, he