Ah, The Souls Of Those That Die

It Was The Schooner Hesperus, That Sailed The Wintry Sea.

The Trees Are White With Dust, That O'er Their Sleep Wave Their Broad Curtains In The South-wind's Breath, While Underneath Such Leafy Tents They Keep The Long, Mysterious Exodus Of Death.

I Am The Angel Of The Sun Whose Flaming Wheels Began To Run When God's Almighty Breath Said To The Darkness And The Night, Let There Be Light! And There Was Light.

The Market-place, The Eager Love Of Gain, Whose Aim Is Vanity, And Whose End Is Pain!

'twas Easter-sunday. The Full-blossomed Trees Filled All The Air With Fragrance And With Joy.