He says they do not glide like us,
But walk in eerie paces;
They're solid, not diaphanous,
With arms! and legs!! and faces!!!

And some are beggars, some are kings,
Some have and some are wanting,
They squander time in doing things,
Instead of simply haunting.

They talk of "art," the horrid crew,
And things they call "ambitions."--
Oh, yes, I know as well as you
They're only superstitions.

But should the dreadful day arrive
When, starting up, I see one,
I'm sure 'twill scare me quite alive;
And then--Oh, then I'll be one!


DAVE LILLY: JOYCE KILMER

There's a brook on the side of Greylock that used to be
full of trout,
But there's nothing there now but minnows; they say
it is all fished out.
I fished there many a Summer day some twenty years
ago,