Of science, knowledge, law,

 Or what you will,

 Whose intangible touch of awe

 Makes reason nil.

 Many a night I start,

 Sudden awake,

 Feeling my smothered heart

 Flutter and quake;

 Like an aspen at dead of noon,

 When not a breath

 Is stirring to trouble the boon

 Valley. A wraith

 Or a fetch, it must be, shivers

 The soul of the tree

 Till every leaf of it quivers.

 And so with me.

58

 Was it the shuffle of feet

 I heard go by,

 With muffled drums in the street?

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