SPIRTS OF THE DEAD

Thy soul shal find itself alone-
Alone of all on earth-unknown
The cause-but none near to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.

Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness-for then
The spirts of the dead, who stood
In life before thee, are again
In death around thee, and their will
Shall then over shadow thee-be still:

For the night, tho' clear,shall frown:
And the stars shall look not down
From their thrones, in the dark heav'n
With light like Hope in mortals giv'n
But their red orbs, with out beam
To thy withering heart shall seem
As a burning, and a fever
Which would cling to thee forever.

But 'twill leave thee, as each star
In the morning light afar
Wil fly thee-and vanish:
-But its thought thou can'st not banish.

The breath of god will be still;
And the wisp apon a hill
By that summer breeze unbrok'n
Will charm thee-as a token,
And a symbol which shall be
Secrecy in thee.


Edgar Allen Poe, 1827