Life, 1916-11-09 · page 3 of 40
Life — November 9, 1916 — page 3: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This satirical poem mocks the contradiction between ghosts' supposed existence and scientific rationalism. The ghost narrator claims to be "quiet" and "inoffensive," yet admits to being "rather fearful" and dreading human beings. The satire targets believers in spiritualism (referenced through "Willy Spook, the Humanist") who claimed to have encountered ghosts, contradicting scientific consensus that ghosts don't exist. The poem ridicules these spiritualists for describing ghosts as having physical forms—"solid, not diaphanous, / With arm! and legs! and faces!!!"—while simultaneously claiming ghosts are supernatural beings. The accompanying sketch shows a woman and child encountering a ghostly figure, visualizing the poem's ironic premise: a ghost anxious about meeting humans, the very beings it supposedly haunts.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
The Supeistitious Ghost "M such a quiet little ghost, Demure and inoffensive ;* The other spirits say I'm most Absurdly apprehensive. Through all the merry hours of night I'm uniformly cheerful; I love the dark, but in the light, I own, I’m rather fearful. Each dawn I cower down in bed, In every brightness seeing That weird, uncanny form of dread— An awful Human Being! Of course I'm told they can’t exist, That Nature would not let them ; But Willy Spook, the Humanist, Declares that he has met them! He says they do not glide like us, But walk in cerie paces; They're solid, not diaphanous, With arms! and legs!! and faces!!! And some are beggars, some are kings, Some have and some are wanting ; They squander time in doing things Instead of simply haunting. They talk of “art,” the horrid crew, And things they call “ambitions.”— Oh, yes, I know as well as you They're only superstitions, But should the dreadful day arrive When, starting up, I see one, I'm sure ‘twill scare me quite alive; And then—Oh, then I'll be one! Arthur Guiterman, comicbooks.com