Visit Of The Dead

Thy soul shall find itself alone     Alone of all on earth, unknown     The cause, but none are near 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 oershadow thee, be still     For the night, tho clear, shall frown:     And the stars shall look not down     From their thrones, in the dark heavn;     With light like Hope to mortals givn,     But their red orbs, without beam,     To thy withering heart shall seem     As a burning, and a ferver     Which would cling to thee forever.     But twill leave thee, as each star     In the morning light afar     Will fly thee, and vanish:     But its thought thou canst not banish.     The breath of God will be still;     And the wish upon the hill     By that summer breeze unbrokn     Shall charm thee, as a token,     And a symbol which shall be     Secrecy in thee