They live! they greatly live a life on earth

Unkindled, unconceived; and from an eye

Of tenderness let heavenly pity fall

On me, more justly number’d with the dead.

This is the desert, this the solitude:

How populous, how vital, is the grave!

This is creation’s melancholy vault, 117

The vale funereal, the sad cypress gloom;

The land of apparitions, empty shades!

All, all on earth, is shadow, all beyond