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Best Famous Ghoul Poems

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Written by Lewis Carroll | Create an image from this poem

Phantasmagoria Canto I (The Trystyng )

 ONE winter night, at half-past nine,
Cold, tired, and cross, and muddy,
I had come home, too late to dine,
And supper, with cigars and wine,
Was waiting in the study. 

There was a strangeness in the room,
And Something white and wavy
Was standing near me in the gloom -
I took it for the carpet-broom
Left by that careless slavey. 

But presently the Thing began
To shiver and to sneeze:
On which I said "Come, come, my man!
That's a most inconsiderate plan.
Less noise there, if you please!" 

"I've caught a cold," the Thing replies,
"Out there upon the landing."
I turned to look in some surprise,
And there, before my very eyes,
A little Ghost was standing! 

He trembled when he caught my eye,
And got behind a chair.
"How came you here," I said, "and why?
I never saw a thing so shy.
Come out! Don't shiver there!" 

He said "I'd gladly tell you how,
And also tell you why;
But" (here he gave a little bow)
"You're in so bad a temper now,
You'd think it all a lie. 

"And as to being in a fright,
Allow me to remark
That Ghosts have just as good a right
In every way, to fear the light,
As Men to fear the dark." 

"No plea," said I, "can well excuse
Such cowardice in you:
For Ghosts can visit when they choose,
Whereas we Humans ca'n't refuse
To grant the interview." 

He said "A flutter of alarm
Is not unnatural, is it?
I really feared you meant some harm:
But, now I see that you are calm,
Let me explain my visit. 

"Houses are classed, I beg to state,
According to the number
Of Ghosts that they accommodate:
(The Tenant merely counts as WEIGHT,
With Coals and other lumber). 

"This is a 'one-ghost' house, and you
When you arrived last summer,
May have remarked a Spectre who
Was doing all that Ghosts can do
To welcome the new-comer. 

"In Villas this is always done -
However cheaply rented:
For, though of course there's less of fun
When there is only room for one,
Ghosts have to be contented. 

"That Spectre left you on the Third -
Since then you've not been haunted:
For, as he never sent us word,
'Twas quite by accident we heard
That any one was wanted. 

"A Spectre has first choice, by right,
In filling up a vacancy;
Then Phantom, Goblin, Elf, and Sprite -
If all these fail them, they invite
The nicest Ghoul that they can see. 

"The Spectres said the place was low,
And that you kept bad wine:
So, as a Phantom had to go,
And I was first, of course, you know,
I couldn't well decline." 

"No doubt," said I, "they settled who
Was fittest to be sent
Yet still to choose a brat like you,
To haunt a man of forty-two,
Was no great compliment!" 

"I'm not so young, Sir," he replied,
"As you might think. The fact is,
In caverns by the water-side,
And other places that I've tried,
I've had a lot of practice: 

"But I have never taken yet
A strict domestic part,
And in my flurry I forget
The Five Good Rules of Etiquette
We have to know by heart." 

My sympathies were warming fast
Towards the little fellow:
He was so utterly aghast
At having found a Man at last,
And looked so scared and yellow. 

"At least," I said, "I'm glad to find
A Ghost is not a DUMB thing!
But pray sit down: you'll feel inclined
(If, like myself, you have not dined)
To take a snack of something: 

"Though, certainly, you don't appear
A thing to offer FOOD to!
And then I shall be glad to hear -
If you will say them loud and clear -
The Rules that you allude to." 

"Thanks! You shall hear them by and by.
This IS a piece of luck!"
"What may I offer you?" said I.
"Well, since you ARE so kind, I'll try
A little bit of duck. 

"ONE slice! And may I ask you for
Another drop of gravy?"
I sat and looked at him in awe,
For certainly I never saw
A thing so white and wavy. 

And still he seemed to grow more white,
More vapoury, and wavier -
Seen in the dim and flickering light,
As he proceeded to recite
His "Maxims of Behaviour."


Written by Lewis Carroll | Create an image from this poem

Phantasmagoria CANTO IV ( Hys Nouryture )

 "OH, when I was a little Ghost, 
A merry time had we! 
Each seated on his favourite post, 
We chumped and chawed the buttered toast 
They gave us for our tea." 

"That story is in print!" I cried. 
"Don't say it's not, because 
It's known as well as Bradshaw's Guide!" 
(The Ghost uneasily replied 
He hardly thought it was). 

"It's not in Nursery Rhymes? And yet 
I almost think it is - 
'Three little Ghosteses' were set 
'On posteses,' you know, and ate 
Their 'buttered toasteses.' 

"I have the book; so if you doubt it - " 
I turned to search the shelf. 
"Don't stir!" he cried. "We'll do without it: 
I now remember all about it; 
I wrote the thing myself. 

"It came out in a 'Monthly,' or 
At least my agent said it did: 
Some literary swell, who saw 
It, thought it seemed adapted for 
The Magazine he edited. 

"My father was a Brownie, Sir; 
My mother was a Fairy. 
The notion had occurred to her, 
The children would be happier, 
If they were taught to vary. 

"The notion soon became a craze; 
And, when it once began, she 
Brought us all out in different ways - 
One was a Pixy, two were Fays, 
Another was a Banshee; 

"The Fetch and Kelpie went to school 
And gave a lot of trouble; 
Next came a Poltergeist and Ghoul, 
And then two Trolls (which broke the rule), 
A Goblin, and a Double - 

"(If that's a snuff-box on the shelf," 
He added with a yawn, 
"I'll take a pinch) - next came an Elf, 
And then a Phantom (that's myself), 
And last, a Leprechaun. 

"One day, some Spectres chanced to call, 
Dressed in the usual white: 
I stood and watched them in the hall, 
And couldn't make them out at all, 
They seemed so strange a sight. 

"I wondered what on earth they were, 
That looked all head and sack; 
But Mother told me not to stare, 
And then she twitched me by the hair, 
And punched me in the back. 

"Since then I've often wished that I 
Had been a Spectre born. 
But what's the use?" (He heaved a sigh.) 
"THEY are the ghost-nobility, 
And look on US with scorn. 

"My phantom-life was soon begun: 
When I was barely six, 
I went out with an older one - 
And just at first I thought it fun, 
And learned a lot of tricks. 

"I've haunted dungeons, castles, towers - 
Wherever I was sent: 
I've often sat and howled for hours, 
Drenched to the skin with driving showers, 
Upon a battlement. 

"It's quite old-fashioned now to groan 
When you begin to speak: 
This is the newest thing in tone - " 
And here (it chilled me to the bone) 
He gave an AWFUL squeak. 

"Perhaps," he added, "to YOUR ear 
That sounds an easy thing? 
Try it yourself, my little dear! 
It took ME something like a year, 
With constant practising. 

"And when you've learned to squeak, my man, 
And caught the double sob, 
You're pretty much where you began: 
Just try and gibber if you can! 
That's something LIKE a job! 

"I'VE tried it, and can only say 
I'm sure you couldn't do it, e- 
ven if you practised night and day, 
Unless you have a turn that way, 
And natural ingenuity. 

"Shakspeare I think it is who treats 
Of Ghosts, in days of old, 
Who 'gibbered in the Roman streets,' 
Dressed, if you recollect, in sheets - 
They must have found it cold. 

"I've often spent ten pounds on stuff, 
In dressing as a Double; 
But, though it answers as a puff, 
It never has effect enough 
To make it worth the trouble. 

"Long bills soon quenched the little thirst 
I had for being funny. 
The setting-up is always worst: 
Such heaps of things you want at first, 
One must be made of money! 

"For instance, take a Haunted Tower, 
With skull, cross-bones, and sheet; 
Blue lights to burn (say) two an hour, 
Condensing lens of extra power, 
And set of chains complete: 

"What with the things you have to hire - 
The fitting on the robe - 
And testing all the coloured fire - 
The outfit of itself would tire 
The patience of a Job! 

"And then they're so fastidious, 
The Haunted-House Committee: 
I've often known them make a fuss 
Because a Ghost was French, or Russ, 
Or even from the City! 

"Some dialects are objected to - 
For one, the IRISH brogue is: 
And then, for all you have to do, 
One pound a week they offer you, 
And find yourself in Bogies!

Book: Reflection on the Important Things