Throes of passion, thoughts of fear,
Screaming in their flight;
Wildly o’er the gloom they sweep,
Spreading a horror dim—a wo that cannot weep!
Weary! Weary! What is life
But a spectre-crowded tomb?
Startled with unearthly strife—
Spirits fierce in conflict met,
In the lightning and the gloom,
The agony and sweat;