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The only ghost I ever sawWas dressed in mechlin,—so;He wore no sandal on his foot,And stepped like flakes of snow.His gait was soundless, like the bird,But rapid, like the roe;His fashions quaint, mosaic,Or, haply, mistletoe.
His conversation seldom,His laughter like the breezeThat dies away in dimplesAmong the pensive trees.Our interview was transient,—Of me, himself was shy;And God forbid I look behindSince that appalling day!