A Tale for All Hallows’ Eve

"For he that toucheth pitch  shall be defiled ..."

Draw up your chair …

I could a tale unfold whose lightest word

Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,

Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,

Thy knotted and combinèd locks to part

And each particular hair to stand on end,

 Like quills upon the fretful porpentine … !

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