A madness, or a mystery ...

And hour by hour, in peril, passed

A soul toward judgment through the vast ...

Life, a vague tumult in the blood,

Beat on 'gainst flesh and bone;

And in its echoing solitude

The heart tapped like a stone;

Till like some child at dark I stood

That stands fear-frozen in a wood,—

Alone—yet not alone.—

For mine was ghostly company:

Chilled, in the eerie air

I felt myself bend over me,

And point as with despair;

And, horror-thrilled, I turned to see

My body selfless there,

And separate,—a house of clay

That mourned its tenant gone;

Its vacant eyes would fain delay,

Its piteous hands implored to stay

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