Spirits Of The Dead

1Thy soul shall find itself alone

2'Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone

3Not one, of all the crowd, to pry

4Into thine hour of secrecy.

5Be silent in that solitude

6 Which is not loneliness — for then

7The spirits of the dead who stood

8 In life before thee are again

9In death around thee — and their will

10Shall overshadow thee: be still.

11The night — tho' clear — shall frown —

12And the stars shall not look down

13From their high thrones in the Heaven,

14With light like Hope to mortals given —

15But their red orbs, without beam,

16To thy weariness shall seem

17As a burning and a fever

18Which would cling to thee forever.

19Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish —

20Now are visions ne'er to vanish —

21From thy spirit shall they pass

22No more — like dew-drops from the grass.

23The breeze — the breath of God — is still —

24And the mist upon the hill

25Shadowy — shadowy — yet unbroken,

26 Is a symbol and a token —

27 How it hangs upon the trees,

28 A mystery of mysteries!