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!--
1827.