SPIRITS OF THE DEAD 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, 5 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. 10 The night, though clear, shall frown, And the stars shall look not down From their high thrones in the Heaven With light like hope to mortals given, But their red orbs, without beam, 15 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; 20 From thy spirit shall they pass No more, like dewdrops from the grass. The breeze, the breath of God, is still, And the mist upon the hill Shadowy, shadowy, yet unbroken, 25 Is a symbol and a token. How it hangs upon the trees, A mystery of mysteries! TO ---- I heed not that my earthly lot Hath little of Earth in it, That years of love have been forgot In the hatred of a minute: I mourn not that the desolate 5 Are happier, sweet, than I, But that you sorrow for my fate Who am a passer-by. ROMANCE Romance, who loves to nod and sing With drowsy head and folded wing Among the green leaves as they shake Far down within some shadowy lake, To me a painted paroquet 5 Hath been--a most familiar bird-- Taught me my alphabet to say, To lisp my very earliest word While in the wild-wood I did lie, A child--with a most knowing eye. 10 Of late, eternal condor years So shake the very heaven on high With tumult as they thunder by, I have no time for idle cares Through gazing on the unquiet sky; 15 And when an hour with calmer wings Its down upon my spirit flings, That little time with lyre and rhyme To while away--forbidden things-- My heart would feel to be a crime 20 Unless it trembled with the strings. TO THE RIVER Fair river! in thy bright, clear flow Of crystal, wandering water, Thou art an emblem of the glow Of beauty--the unhidden heart, The playful maziness of art 5 In old Alberto's daughter; But when within thy wave she looks, Which glistens then, and trembles, Why, then, the prettiest of brooks Her worshipper resembles; 10 For in his heart, as in thy stream, Her image deeply lies-- His heart which trembles at the beam Of her soul-searching eyes. TO SCIENCE A PROLOGUE TO "AL AARAAF"