A thousand fantasies Begin to throng into my memory, Of calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dire, And airy tongues that syllable men's names On sands and shores and desert wildernesses.
A thousand fantasies Begin to throng into my memory, Of calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dire, And airy tongues that syllable men's names On sands and shores and desert wildernesses.
What beck'ning ghost, along the moon-light shade
Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories