Those forms we fancy shadows, those strange lights That flash on dank morasses, the quick wind That smites us by the roadsideโare the Night's Innumerable children. Unconfined By shroud or coffin, disembodied souls, Uneasy spirits, steal into the air From festering graveyards when the curfew tolls At the day's death... And wheresoever murders have been done, In stately palaces or lonesome woods, Where'er a soul has sold itself and lost Its high inheritance, there, hovering, broods Some sad, invisible, accursรฉd Ghost!
Thomas Bailey AldrichThe fate of the worm refutes the pretended ethical teaching of the proverb, which assumes to illustrate the advantage of early rising and does so by showing how extremely dangerous it is.
Thomas Bailey AldrichGracious to all, to none subservient, Without offense he spoke the word he meant
Thomas Bailey AldrichWhen friends are at your hearthside met, Sweet courtesy has done its most If you have made each guest forget That he himself is not the host.
Thomas Bailey Aldrich