CANTO I.
The Trystyng.
One winter night, at half-past nine,Cold, tired, and cross, and muddy,I had come home, too late to dine,And supper, with cigars and wine,Was waiting in the study.There was a strangeness in the room,And Something white and wavyWas standing near me in the gloom—I took it for the carpet-broomLeft by that careless slavey.
But presently the Thing beganTo shiver and to sneeze:On...
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