SPIRITS OF THE DEAD |
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SPIRITS OF THE DEAD
1 Thy soul shall find itself alone
`Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone -
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy: 2 Be silent in that solitude
Which is not loneliness - for then
The spirits of the dead who stood
In life before thee are again
In death around thee - and their will
Shall then overshadow thee: be still. 3 For the night - tho` clear - shall frown -
And the stars shall look not down,
From their high thrones in the Heaven,
With light like Hope to mortals given -
But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and a fever
Which would cling to thee for ever : 4 Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish -
Now are visions ne`er to vanish -
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more - like dew-drop from the grass: 5 The breeze - the breath of God - is still -
And the mist upon the hill
Shadowy - shadowy - yet unbroken,
Is a symbol and a token -
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries! -
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