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Claire

Poetic Wanderings

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    XXI
It was no mouse, but lo! a monk, array'd
     In cowl and beads and dusky garb, appear'd,
Now in the moonlight, and now lapsed in shade,
     With steps that trod as heavy, yet unheard;
His garments only a slight murmur made;
     He moved as shadowy as the sisters weird,
But slowly; and as he pass'd Juan by,
Glanced, without pausing, on him a bright eye.

     XXII
Juan was petrified; he had heard a hint
     Of such a spirit in these halls of old,
But thought, like most men, there was nothing in 't
     Beyond the rumour which such spots unfold,
Coin'd from surviving superstition's mint,
     Which passes ghosts in currency like gold,
But rarely seen, like gold compared with paper.
And did he see this? or was it a vapour?

 

Lord Byron, Don Juan (from canto XVI)

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