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PHANTASMAGORIA.
CANTO I.
The Trystyng.
One wintry 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 thin and wavy
Was standing near me in the gloom—
I took it for the carpet-broom
Left by that careless slavey.
