Is my love afraid of the quiet dead?
Ah! let them alone in their dusty bed!
See, see, see! by the gallows-tree,
As they dance on the wheels' broad hoop,
Up and down in the gleam of the moon
Half lost, an airy group: Ho! ho! mad mob, come hither amain,
And join in the wake of my rushing train;
Come, dance me a dance, ye dancers thin,
Ere the planks of the marriage-bed close us in.
And to every dark soul who joined us in this wicked waltz—thank you.
Your entries were dripping with passion, shadow, and style.
Sinister never looked so good. 🕯️🌹
A moonlit ride through a haunted forest: the ghost of a soldier gallops on a black horse, his entire form — including his 18th-century military uniform — softly glowing and semi-transparent. He wears no hat, and his hair floats slightly around his face as if suspended in water. Behind him rides Lenore, ...