Читать книгу The Complete Poetry - Эдгар Аллан По, Marta Fihel - Страница 103

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Thy soul shall find itself alone—

Alone of all on earth—unknown

The cause—but none are near to pry

Into thine hour of secrecy.

Be silent in that solitude,

Which is not loneliness—for then

The spirits of the dead, who stood

In life before thee, are again

In death around thee, and their will

Shall then o'ershadow thee—be still:

For the night, tho' clear, shall frown;

And the stars shall look not down

From their thrones, in the dark heaven,

With light like Hope to mortals given.

But their red orbs, without beam,

To thy withering heart shall seem

As a burning, and a fever

Which would cling to thee for ever.

But 'twill leave thee, as each star

In the morning light afar

Will fly thee—and vanish:

—But its thought thou canst not banish. The breath of God will be still; And the mist upon the hill By that summer breeze unbroken Shall charm thee—as a token, And a symbol which shall be Secrecy in thee.