Spirits of the Dead

--Edgar Allen Poe

I

Thy soul shall find itself alone

’Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone--

Not one, of all the crowd, to pry

Into thine hour of secrecy.

       II...

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 overshadow thee: be still.

       III...

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.

       IV...

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.

       V...

The breeze- the breath of God- is still-

And the mist upon the hill,

Shadow- shadowy- yet unbroken,

Is a symbol and a token-

How it hangs upon the trees,

A mystery of mysteries!