Spirits Of The Dead ------------------------ Thy soul shall find itself alone 'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone; 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 overshadow thee; be still The spirits of the dead The dead The night, though 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 for ever For ever For ever Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish Now are visions ne'er to vanish From thy spirit shall they pass No more, like dew-drop 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 Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish Now are visions ne'er to vanish From thy spirit shall they pass No more, like dew-drop from the grass No more No more No more... --- "Spirits Of The Dead" Copyright © 2026 Rick n' Stolti. All rights reserved. [email protected] Based on a 1827 public domain work by Edgar Allan Poe. This work contains original lyrics, and musical arrangement.
