Ballads and other verses :: :: University of Virginia Library

Come, my Tavvie, Jennie, Florie,
Paul and Maidie, if 't won't bore ye,
Come and hear my new ghost story!
“Certain true” it is, and therefore
Something that perhaps you'll care for.

On the rocks we'll sit together,
In this blessèd summer weather,
Holding hands, the moonlight watching,
With no fear of bad cold catching.

Paul, you rogue, if you don't falter,
You shall win a prime “Gibraltar,”
And the girls shall have four others,
Just as if they were our brothers.

Now we're seated, all is ready,
So be silent, firm, and steady.

Never mind, it is no matter,
If your teeth do clash and clatter.
They are wisdom teeth that chatter
When a true ghost story rises,
Filling us with new surprises.

On the beach that lies before ye
Is the scene of my ghost story,
And it came to pass in Ju-ly,
“Sure as eggs is eggs” and tru-ly.

Well, it really makes me shudder,
When I think in what a pudder
That same night my nerves went jumping,
And my heart kept loudly thumping.
Deary me! let 's all sit snugger
In a general kind of hugger,
So if any sprite should bump us,
We'll together share the rumpus.

I'm a sleepless kind of fellow,
Moonlight always makes me mellow,
And I like to walk when people
Are as silent as yon steeple

Where the bell-rope has been rended
Twenty years, and can't be mended.

So last month, when all was stilly,—
Midnight, moonlight, nothing chilly,—
From our hill-top I descended,
And by “Masconomo” wended.
Overhead the stars ceased swinging,
Underfoot the beach stopped singing,
Not a mollusk then was stirring,
Not a fairy-puss was purring,
Not a love-sick periwinkle
His guitar took out to tinkle;
All the Syrens silver dripping
Into amber caves were slipping,
Even Neptune, that old schemer
Ventured to become a dreamer.
Everything and everybody
Passed into the land of Noddy.

I began to feel quite creepy,
Thinking of a world so sleepy,
Still I kept on walking, walking,
Sometimes to myself low talking,

Sometimes sotto voce chanting
Songs like Shelley's, that come haunting
All our fresh-awakened senses
With their lovely moods and tenses.
Tennyson I sang and shouted,
Longfellow's brave words I spouted,
Homer, with his grand emotion,
How I thundered to the ocean!
All the bards seemed there assembled,
As alone I walked and trembled.

In my memories and forgetries,
Never night had such et cæteras;
Never did the moon shine brighter,
Never did the waves dance lighter.
Warmth and coolth were gently blended,
Like two lovers, Triton-tended;
Every breeze came in caressing,
Freighted with an amorous blessing.

Solitude oped every portal.
Never was a lonelier mortal!
Still I trudged along and listened
Now and then, as round me glistened

Sand and rock, but not a whisper
Came from any human lisper.

What is that so white and tiny,
Moving slowly toward the briny
World before me,—onward gliding,
Pausing, resting, tripping, sliding?
Heavens! what is that baby vision,
Wandering there from haunts Elysian,
Coming nearer, nearer, nearer,
Growing clearer, clearer, clearer?

Soon my hair began to bristle,
And I tried in vain to whistle.
Could it be a ghost invidious,
Moving on with step insidious,
Bent on helpless man's destruction,
Like a vampire full of suction?
Should I run? that was the question.
Perish such a base suggestion!
No! because my limbs rheumatic
Banished feats on land aquatic.
Should I boldly face the danger,
And regard the little stranger?

Sure, that form is nothing human,—
Just a moonlit pigmy woman!

Now the figure ceases motion,
Gazing out upon the ocean.
What a pair of eyes to look on!
What an arm for love to hook on!
Oh, what golden ringlets rippled!
Mouth where spirits might have tippled,
And become inebriated,
Kissing oft, but never sated!
Pearly hands just left off waving,
Pinky toes in foam-beds laving.
What a ravishing admixture,
Gracing that infantine fixture!

What impelled me then to snatch up
In my arms this ghostly catch-up,
Who can tell? I can't determine,
But I did, as if 't were ermine,
Or a bunch of pure white roses,
Lilies, or any other posies.
Yes, I did, and then, good gracious!
What happened then? Don't be rapacious!

Five young listeners know the sequel,
To write it out I don't feel equal.
But, if you will take your pottage,
Some day, in our Gambrel Cottage,
I'll explain to lads and lasses
What the ghost was. It surpasses,
Paul says, mortal comprehension,
And quite worthy your attention.