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.