Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/137

126

A whole year must have added to her list Of ghastly murders, spiritual visitings: At least, 't will make the ancient ones seem new.

And you will listen like a frighted child. I think I see you;—when the turret clock Has toll'd the night hour heavily; the hearth Has only flickering embers, which send forth Gleams of distorting light; the untrimm'd lamp Exaggerates the shadows, till they seem Flung by no human shape; the hollow voice Of that old crone, the only living sound; Her face, on which mortality has writ Its closing, with the wan and bony hand, Raised like a spectre's—and yourself the while,