I saw--no, nothing yet I saw,
But something went pit-pat.

So did my heart responsively,
Beat like a prison'd bird,
That's newly caught--but no reply
I made, to what I heard.

It nearer came--'Angels,' I cried,
'And Ministers of Grace defend.'
Yet nothing I as yet descried,
My hair stood all on end.

My breath was short, I'm sure my eye
Was dim, so was the light,
I thought that I that hour should die,
With sad and sore affright.

And then came o'er me--what came o'er?
Some spectre grim I'll bet,
O tell me!--why at every pore--
A very heavy sweat.

Poh, don't delay the wond'rous tale,
What follow'd? tell me that,
(I feel my heart and limbs too fail)
The same thing, pit-a-pat.

And then there came before my eyes,
I pray thee 'list, O list,'