University of Virginia Library

The stars were wrapt in curtain gray,
The blast of midnight died away;
'Twas just the hour of solemn dread,
When walk the spirits of the dead:
Rustled the leaves with gentle motion,
Groaned his chilled soul in deep devotion.
The lake-fowl's wake was heard no more;
The wave forgot to brush the shore;
Hushed was the bleat on moor and hill;
The wandering clouds of heaven stood still.