Spirits of the Dead

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Spirits of the Dead

Thy soul shall find itself alone

вАЩMid dark thoughts of the gray tombstoneвБ†вАФ

Not one, of all the crowd, to pry

Into thine hour of secrecy.

Be silent in that solitude

Which is not lonelinessвБ†вАФfor then

The spirits of the dead who stood

In life before thee are again

In death around theeвБ†вАФand their will

Shall then overshadow thee: be still.

For the nightвБ†вАФthoвАЩ clearвБ†вАФshall frownвБ†вАФ

And the stars shall not look down

From their high thrones in the Heaven,

With light like Hope to mortals givenвБ†вАФ

But their red orbs, without beam,

To thy weariness shall seem

As a burning and a fever

Which would cling to thee forever.

Now are thoughts thou shalt not banishвБ†вАФ

Now are visions neвАЩer to vanishвБ†вАФ

From thy spirit shall they pass

No moreвБ†вАФlike dew-drops from the grass.

The breezeвБ†вАФthe breath of GodвБ†вАФis stillвБ†вАФ

And the mist upon the hill

ShadowyвБ†вАФshadowyвБ†вАФyet unbroken,

Is a symbol and a tokenвБ†вАФ

How it hangs upon the trees,

A mystery of mysteries!