A SOULFUL QUESTION
"DIDST ever," asks the Soulful One,
Uplifting eyes steeped in old dreams
And mysticism of dead days
Down which have run the runic themes
Of ghostly visitants that shun the gaze
And only walk when day is done
And haunt the reaches of the clear, wan moon—
Uplifting eyes steeped in old dreams
And mysticism of dead days
Down which have run the runic themes
Of ghostly visitants that shun the gaze
And only walk when day is done
And haunt the reaches of the clear, wan moon—
"Didst ever go, *neath night's close brooding wing,
Into a room all dark and still
And know you were alone—no one was there,
Yet feel within your soul the prescient thrill
Of unseen presence stir the air—
Didst ever do this strange, unfathomed thing?
Oh, answer from thy weird experience!"
Into a room all dark and still
And know you were alone—no one was there,
Yet feel within your soul the prescient thrill
Of unseen presence stir the air—
Didst ever do this strange, unfathomed thing?
Oh, answer from thy weird experience!"
And then we answered: "Yea, when daylight flits
We've entered such a room and felt
The 'unseen presence' ambushed there,
And barked our shin, and raised a welt,
And in our fury kicked th' offending chair
Into some several dozen flying bits!
Yea, we have done this strange, unfathomed thing."
We've entered such a room and felt
The 'unseen presence' ambushed there,
And barked our shin, and raised a welt,
And in our fury kicked th' offending chair
Into some several dozen flying bits!
Yea, we have done this strange, unfathomed thing."