Without a thought, or fear, they shut

The narrow gates of sense;

Heedless and quiet, in slumber turn

Their strength to impotence.

The transient strangeness of the earth

Their spirits no more see:

Within a silent gloom withdrawn,

They slumber in secrecy.

Two worlds they have—a globe forgot

Wheeling from dark to light;

And all the enchanted realm of dream

That burgeons out of night.

[Pg 45]

[Pg 45]

THE STRANGER

Half-hidden in a graveyard,

In the blackness of a yew,

Where never living creature stirs,

Nor sunbeam pierces through,

Is a tombstone green and crooked,

 Prev. P 36/72 next