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12.3.1: 341 (‘Tis so appalling it exhilarates)

  • Page ID
    170425
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    ‘Tis so appalling — it exhilarates —
    So over Horror, it half Captivates —
    The Soul stares after it, secure —
    A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more —

    To scan a Ghost, is faint —
    But grappling, conquers it —
    How easy, Torment, now —
    Suspense kept sawing so —

    The Truth, is Bald, and Cold —
    But that will hold —
    If any are not sure —
    We show them — prayer —
    But we, who know,
    Stop hoping, now —

    Looking at Death, is Dying —
    Just let go the Breath —
    And not the pillow at your Cheek
    So Slumbereth —

    Others, Can wrestle —
    Yours, is done —
    And so of Woe, bleak dreaded — come,
    It sets the Fright at liberty —
    And Terror’s free —
    Gay, Ghastly, Holiday!


    12.3.1: 341 (‘Tis so appalling it exhilarates) is shared under a not declared license and was authored, remixed, and/or curated by LibreTexts.

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