Spirits of the Dead
By Edgar Allan Poe
Thy soul shall find itself alone
’Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone—
Not one, of all the crowd, 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 overshadow thee: be still.
The night, tho’ clear, shall frown—
And the stars shall look not down
From their high thrones in the heaven,
With light like Hope to mortals given—
But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and a fever
Which would cling to thee for ever.
Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish,
Now are visions ne’er to vanish;
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more—like dew-drop from the grass.
The breeze—the breath of God—is still—
And the mist upon the hill,
Is a symbol and a token—
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!
HAPPY HALLOWEEN everyone !!!!
Happy Halloween to you all !
Today my post contains some images at the old estate church yard of Temple Michael, Ballynatray Estate, Cherrymount, county cork, and one of my most loved poems by Thomas Hardy, a true poet from the hight of the 1800’s Gothic period and a Victorian realist in the tradition of George Eliot.
So tonight when it goes dark if I were you I would light a fire, lock the doors and windows and stay inside as the time is tonight when The “soon to-be Forgotten” rise.
By Thomas Hardy
I heard a small sad sound,
And stood awhile among the tombs around:
“Wherefore, old friends,” said I, “are you distrest,
Now, screened from life’s unrest?”
—”O not at being here;
But that our future second death is near;
When, with the living, memory of us numbs,
And blank oblivion comes!
“These, our sped ancestry,
Lie here embraced by deeper death than we;
Nor shape nor thought of theirs can you descry
With keenest backward eye.
“They count as quite forgot;
They are as men who have existed not;
Theirs is a loss past loss of fitful breath;
It is the second death.
“We here, as yet, each day
Are blest with dear recall; as yet, can say
We hold in some soul loved continuance
Of shape and voice and glance.
“But what has been will be —
First memory, then oblivion’s swallowing sea;
Like men foregone, shall we merge into those
Whose story no one knows.
“For which of us could hope
To show in life that world-awakening scope
Granted the few whose memory none lets die,
But all men magnify?
“We were but Fortune’s sport;
Things true, things lovely, things of good report
We neither shunned nor sought … We see our bourne,
And seeing it we mourn.”
Walter de la Mare
All winter through I bow my head
beneath the driving rain;
the North Wind powders me with snow
and blows me black again;
at midnight ‘neath a maze of stars
I flame with glittering rime,
and stand above the stubble, stiff
as mail at morning-prime.
But when that child called Spring, and all
his host of children come,
scattering their buds and dew upon
these acres of my home,
some rapture in my rags awakes;
I lift void eyes and scan
the sky for crows, those ravening foes,
of my strange master, Man.
I watch him striding lank behind
his clashing team, and know
soon will the wheat swish body high
where once lay a sterile snow;
soon I shall gaze across a sea
of sun-begotten grain,
which my unflinching watch hath sealed
for harvest once again.
Happy Halloween! – welcome to Ninemile house grave yard, a place of rest OR is it ?
I few weeks back I visited this old Graveyard at Nine mile house, County Tipperary.
This place just has to be one of the most atmospheric Grave yards in the local area. It is full of very old graves and the remains of an old chapel who’s insides have been used as the location of some graves dating from the 1800’s.
This is a place of rest however and a very peaceful location, But on Halloween night, well I just wonder ? ?
For anyone who has been following my blog, they will know I love poetry, well last night I had a go at my own poem for Halloween!
A poem for Halloween
There is nothing in the dark…
Don’t run to the light, Run towards the night.
For ever fearing the Dark .
Don’t turn on a lights, Shining a torch into the blackness.
There is nothing in the Dark, No monsters to fear.
Nothing hiding in the blackness.
No evil demons
No open graves
No devils to consume your soul
No omen of death
Don’t look towards the stars, Fires of the heavens.
Hoping forever to be alive.
Don’t fear the blackness of the woods at night.
There is nothing in the dark,
nothing that is not just asleep in the day
and awake at night.
It is not the dark you should fear,
Fear the light.
In the dark there is rest,
A peace of your mind.
There is nothing in the dark but rest and a lack of light !