Thy soul shall find itself alone
Dark thoughts of grey tombstones
No one who grieves in that secret hour

Will give to that soul any more power

Be silent in that solitude

Which is not true loneliness
The spirits of the dead
Stand before thee again


The stars shall not fade from their high thrones in heaven
Light like hope to mortals given

But to thee they are a fever
Which would cling to thee forever


Now are thoughts thou shall not banish
Burning they cling to thee as fever from the heavens
Now are visions never vanished

Silent they cling to thee as fever burning forever

The breeze is still

The mist enveloped in shadows
The stars come right again and pierce the endless dark
Fever hangs upon the trees

Mystery of mysteries