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 overshadow thee; be still.
The night, though clear, shall frown, And the stars shall not look down A burning and a fever Which would cling to thee for ever.
Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish, Now are visions never 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!
The night, though clear, shall frown, And the stars shall not look down A burning and a fever Which would cling to thee for ever.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.