And on the threshold of my silent hall
I paused a moment, and the wind swept by
With the same deep and dirge-like tone which pierced
My soul e’en now! I call’d—my struggling voice
Gave utterance to my wife’s, my children’s names.
They answer’d not. I roused my failing strength,
And wildly rush’d within.—And they were there.
Raim. And was all well?
Mon. Ay, well!—for death is well:
And they were all at rest! I see them yet,