I walked with the dead—quietly
In the darkness of its vaults
Looking at its ruined past,
Their shadows taunting above my head!
In the twilight of these unwashed vaults
Shadow-lands, unresponsive
Yearning hands, vaguer faces:
All shadowy hanging limbs above me!
All these grim and ghostly shapes I see
Have tears, sorrow, and misery.
No joy upon their faces at all;
I pause, I sigh, I see thee, see thee
(I am like a dreamless bird, caught
in, in the vanishing shadow-lands of
a vision.)