Thy soul shall find itself alone
Dark thoughts of grey tombstones
No one who grieves in that secret hour
Will give to that soul any more power

Be silent in that solitude
Which is not true loneliness
The spirits of the dead
Stand before thee again

The stars shall not fade from their high thrones in heaven
Light like hope to mortals given
But to thee they are a fever
Which would cling to thee forever

Now are thoughts thou shall not banish
Burning they cling to thee as fever from the heavens
Now are visions never vanished
Silent they cling to thee as fever burning forever

The breeze is still
The mist enveloped in shadows
The stars come right again and pierce the endless dark
Fever hangs upon the trees
Mystery of mysteries