Whose Ghosts are laid beyond the Isthmus
Of Suez, all beneath the billows
Of the Red Sea, on sandy pillows.
The Ghosts with eyes of flame and saucer
Are now as obsolete as Chaucer;
No Ghosts now rattle chains, nor blue light
Emit, but "Spirit Lights"—a new light.
White-sheeted Ghosts have grown mere fables.
Instead of groaning, Ghosts rap tables:
With smells of sulphur ne'er assail us;