Explore "Spirits of the Dead" by Edgar Allan Poe on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Thy soul shall find itself alone / 'Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone --
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 then overshadow thee: be still.
For the night -- tho' clear -- shall frown --
And the stars shall not look 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 forever.
Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish --
Now are visions ne'er to vanish --
From thy spirit shall they pass / No more -- like dew-drops 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!