Spirits of the Dead - text
’Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone—
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.
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.
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 visions ne’er to vanish;
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more—like dew-drop from the grass.
And the mist upon the hill,
Is a symbol and a token—
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!
- Versos Para o Submundo
- Jekk Alla Jrid
- At the Cape of Good Hope,..
- In the Wake of Forgetfuln..
- Spirits of the Dead
- The Bringer of Dawn
- Eulogy for the Weary
- 1. Lady of Shalott
- 2. Laudanum
- 3. For My Fallen Angel
- 4. If Only Tonight We Could ..
- 5. The Lost King of the Lyre
- 6. Neophyte
- 7. Gentle Whisper
- 8. Liber XLIX
- 9. The Loss of the Lost
- 10. Os Vultos