Houses Were Knocked Down; Streets Broken Through

... When The Locked Door Opens, And There Comes In A Young Woman, Deadly Pale, And With Long Fair Hair, Who Glides To The Fire, And Sits Down In The Chair We Have Left There, Wringing Her Hands.

As The Gloom And Shadow Thickened Behind Him, In That Place Where It Had Been Gathering So Darkly, It Took, By Slow Degrees, - Or Out Of It There Came, By Some Unreal, Unsubstantial Process - Not To Be Traced By Any Human Sense, - An Awful Likeness Of Himself!

The Clouds Were Flying Fast, The Wind Was Coming Up In Gusts, Banging Some Neighboring Shutters That Had Broken Loose, Twirling The Rusty Chimney-cowls And Weathercocks, And Rushing Round And Round A Confined Adjacent Churchyard As If It Had A Mind To Blow The Dead Citizens Out Of Their Graves. The Low Thunder, Muttering In All Quarters Of The Sky At Once, Seemed To Threaten Vengeance For This Attempted Desecration, And To Mutter, "let Them Rest! Let Them Rest!

What Is Peace? Is It War? No. Is It Strife? No. Is It Lovely, And Gentle, And Beautiful, And Pleasant, And Serene, And Joyful? O Yes!

There Is A Passion For Hunting Something Deeply Implanted In The Human Breast.