The only ghost I ever saw
Was 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.
Hi conversation seldom,
His laughter like the breeze
That dies away in dimples
Among the pensive trees.
Our interview was transient, --
Of me, himself was shy;
And God forbid I look behind
Since that appalling day!
..........amazing imagery....love this stanza ★ His laughter like the breeze That dies away in dimples Among the pensive trees.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is all a large metaphor. The ghost is not actually one... he just seems like one. S/he seems to make conversation with the narrator.