donlaiq
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    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 grass: 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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