He found, as people on most trials must,
That he had made at first a silly blunder,
And that in his confusion he had caught
Only the wall, instead of what he sought.
CXXIII.
The Ghost, if Ghost it were, seemed a sweet soul
As ever lurked beneath a holy hood:
A dimpled chin,[OH] a neck of ivory, stole
Forth into something much like flesh and blood;
Back fell the sable frock and dreary cowl,