Poet's Choice

With earlier title than his own.

Unbodied presences, the pack'd

Pollution and remorse of Time,

Slipp'd from oblivion reenact

The horrors of unhouseld crime.

Some men would quell the thing with prayer

Whose sightless footsteps pad the floor,

Whose fearful trespass mounts the stair

Or bursts the lock'd forbidden door.

Some have seen corpses long interr'd

Escape from hallowing control,

Pale charnel forms -- nay ev'n have heard