Shadows.

1
Ha! help! - 'twas palpable!
A ghost that thronged
Up from the mind or hell
Of one I wronged!
2
'Tis past and - silence! - naught! -
A vision born
Of the scared mind o'erwrought
With dreams forlorn:
3
The bastard brood of Death
And Sleep that wakes
Grim fancies with its breath,
And reason shakes.
4
Would that the grave _could_ rot
Like flesh the soul,
Gnaw through with worms and not
Leave it thus whole,
5
More than it was in earth
Beyond the grave,
Much more in death than birth
To conscience slave!