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The night wind whispers—Ghosts! They are waiting for their hosts; The waning moon is weary and will not be up till late; Already there are shadows at the gate. A word, half heard, that is whispered in your ear, And a presence that is felt when no one else is near. Have you been along the corridors alone—all alone— And listened to the wind up yonder making moan? Have you thought about it all, The footfall in the hall That comes and goes—comes and goes— With the measure of a heartbeat of a life that ebbs and flows? Werner's Readings No. 31—10