The Haunters & The Haunted - Ghost Stories And Tales Of The Supernatural by Various
page 24 of 388 (06%)
page 24 of 388 (06%)
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A troop of Echoes whose sweet duty
Was but to sing, In voices of surpassing beauty, The wit and wisdom of their king. V But evil things, in robes of sorrow, Assailed the monarch's high estate; (Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow Shall dawn upon him, desolate!) And, round about his home, the glory That blushed and bloomed Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed. VI And travellers now within that valley, Through the red-litten windows, see Vast forms that move fantastically To a discordant melody; While, like a rapid ghastly river, Through the pale door, A hideous throng rush out forever, And laugh--but smile no more. I well remember that suggestions arising from this ballad, led us into a train of thought wherein there became manifest an opinion of Usher's which I mention not so much on account of its novelty (for other men[1] |
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