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A BALLAD OF THE WAILING GHOST
As I between the dusk and dark
Walked down by Hampton Towers,
I strayed upon the haunted path
In the forbidden hours.
I paced the long and lonesome way
In meditation deep,
And there I saw a little maid
Who bitterly did weep.
Quaint was her silken robe and flowed
In some disorder down,
And on her slender shoulders fell
Her locks of tangled brown.
"Too late! Too late!" she weeping cried,
Her voice was like the wind—
She passed and wrung her lily hands
And left me far behind.
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