All that a man might give his life to keep
If only for an instant's breathing while!
Cold with my rage against the men who held
At such cheap rate the labours of the dead,
My heart within me sank, while o'er it swelled
A sadness that would not be comforted;
An awe came on me, and I seemed to face
The invisible spirit of the dreary place,
To hear the unheard voice of it, which said:—