Hawthorne, Julian. Were-wolf. (In Stedman's American Anthology.)
Dabbled with blood are its awful lips
Grinning in horrible glee.
The wolves that follow with scurrying feet
Sniffing that goblin scent, at once
Scatter in terror, while it slips
Away, to the shore of the frozen sea.
Herrick, Robert. The Hag.
The Hag is astride,
This night for to ride,
The Devil and she together.
Through thick, and through thin,
Now out, and then in,
Though ne'er so foul be the weather.
Hood, Thomas. The Haunted House.
O'er all there hung a shadow and a fear
A sense of mystery the spirit daunted
And said, as plain as whisper in the ear,
"The place is Haunted!"
Houghton, George. The Handsel Ring. (In Stedman's American Anthology.)
A man and maid are plighting their troth in the tomb of an old knight, the girl's father, when the man lucklessly drops the ring through a crack in the floor of the tomb.
"Let not thy heart be harried and sore
For a little thing!"
"Nay! but behold what broodeth there!
See the cold sheen of his silvery hair!
Look how his eyeballs roll and stare,
Seeking thy handsel ring!"
Hugo, Victor. The Djinns. (In Charles A. Dana's The Household Book of Poetry.)
