The Ghost in the Picture Room

Belinda, with a modest self-possession quite her own, promptly answered for this Spectre in a low, clear voice:



The lights extinguished; by the hearth I leant,



Half weary with a listless discontent.



The flickering giant shadows, gathering near.



Closed round me with a dim and silent fear;



All dull, all dark; save when the leaping flame,



Glancing, lit up The Picture's ancient frame.