That I can clearly fix, Till I was sitting on the floor, Repeating "Two and five are four, But five and two are six." What really passed I never learned, Nor guessed: I only know That, when at last my sense returned, The lamp, neglected, dimly burned — The fire was getting low — Through driving mists I seemed to see A Thing that smirked and smiled: And found that he was giving me A lesson in Biography, As if I were a child.

Canto IV — Hys Nouryture

"Oh, when I was a little Ghost, A merry time had we! Each seated on his favourite post, We chumped and chawed the buttered toast They gave us for our tea." "That story is in print!" I cried. "Don't say it's not, because It's known as well as Bradshaw's Guide!" (The Ghost uneasily replied He hardly thought it was). "It's not in Nursery Rhymes? And yet I almost think it is — 'Three little Ghosteses' were set 'On posteses,' you know, and ate Their 'buttered toasteses.' "I have the book; so if you doubt it — " I turned to search the shelf. "Don't stir!" he cried. "We'll do without it: I now remember all about it; I wrote the thing myself. "It came out in a 'Monthly,' or At least my agent said it did: Some literary swell, who saw It, thought it seemed adapted for The Magazine he edited.