Linen and sheets and bands he trails,
Mocking her acts in the moon's wan light.
Lo, with swift steps, foreboding doom,
From the churchyard's edge o'er grave and tomb
The ghost to the tower wends its ways;
And climbs and glides, ne'er fearing fall,
Up by the ledges, the lofty wall,
Fixing the sinner with fearful gaze.
The watcher grows pale, and with hasty hand,
Tears from the tower the shrouds and bands;