By Jean Bush
A spirit came on a moonlit night
To seek a maid to be his wife,
And there he saw her passing fair
As she was going up the stair.
“Pardon, Miss, I’d like a kiss,
Please turn your eyes to me;
For you look sweet and we could sleep
Through all eternity.”
The lady paused and looked around
And seemed to be alone,
But a midnight wind had gotten in
And chilled her to the bone.
The days passed by, the neighbors
came
And bring her back they tried.
Though she lay in the gloom of that
cold, cold room,
She had left to become a bride.
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