| SPIRITS OF THE DEAD ( E.A.Poe )
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:
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.
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 :
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 gras |
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