CXXI.

But still the Shade remained: the blue eyes glared, And rather variably for stony death; Yet one thing rather good the grave had spared, The Ghost had a remarkably sweet breath: A straggling curl showed he had been fair-haired; A red lip, with two rows of pearls beneath, Gleamed forth, as through the casement's ivy shroud The Moon peeped, just escaped from a grey cloud.