Can I forget? — no, never while my soul
Lives to remember! that imperial night
When through the spectral church I heard them roll,
Those organ tones of glory, and my sight
Grew dim with tears, while ever new delight
Throbbed in my heart, and through the shadowy dread
The pale ghosts wandered, and a deathly chill
Froze all my being, — the mysterious thrill
That tells the awful presence of the dead!
Yet not the dead, but, strayed from heavenly bowers,
Pure souls that live with other life than ours:
For sure I am that ecstasy of sound
Lured one sweet spirit from his holy ground,
Who dwells in the perpetual land of flowers.