The Only Ghost I Ever Saw Was Dressed In Mechlin, -- So; He Wore No Sandal On His Foot, And Stepped Like Flakes Of Snow. His Gait Was Soundless, Like The Bird, But Rapid, Like The Roe; His Fashions Quaint, Mosaic, Or, Haply, Mistletoe. His Conversation Seldom, His Laughter Like The Breeze That Dies Away In Dimples Among The Pensive Trees. Our Interview Was Transient,-- Of Me, Himself Was Shy; And God Forbid I Look Behind Since That Appalling Day!