And seem to chant, “Rest troubled soul!
Mercy! Oh! mercy for the dead!”
The spirit bent his brow—and tears
The first which he had shed for years,
Fell burning from his eyes, for THOUGHT
Had oped their overflowing cells,
Like wakened lightning which has sought
The cloud with all its liquid spells.
He wept—as he had wept of old—
When sudden through the gloomy air