From visions ill to bear.
The very curtain shook,
Her terror was so extreme;
And the light that fell on the broider'd quilt
Kept a tremulous gleam;
And her voice was hollow, and shook as she cried:—
"Oh me! that awful dream"!
"That weary, weary walk,
In the churchyard's dismal ground!
And those horrible things, with shady wings,