Books and thoughts
- Old ghosts that death forgot to ferry
- Across the Lethe of the years—
- These are my friends, and at their tears
- I weep and with their mirth am merry.
- On a high tower, whose battlements
- Give me all heaven at a glance,
- I lie long summer nights in trance,
- Drowsed by the murmurs and the scents
- That rise from earth, while the sky above me
- Merges its peace with my soul's peace,
- Deep meeting deep. No stir can move me,
- Nought break the quiet of my release:
- In vain the windy sunlight raves
- At the hush and gloom of polar caves.
- --oOo-- -