Explore "The Valley of the Shadow of Death" by Lewis Carroll on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
/ Hark, _said the dying man_, _and sighed_, / To that complaining tone -- / Like sprite condemned, each eventide, / To walk the world alone. / At sunset, when the air is still, / I hear it creep from yonder hill: / It breathes upon me, dead and chill, / A moment, and is gone.
/ My son, it minds me of a day / Left half a life behind, / That I have prayed to put away / For ever from my mind. / But bitter memory will not die: / It haunts my soul when none is nigh: / I hear its whisper in the sigh / Of that complaining wind.