A spirit pass'd before me

A spirit pass'd before me: I beheld

The face of immortality unveil'd --

Deep sleep came down on every eye save mine --

And there it stood, -- all formless -- but divine;

Along my bones the creeping flesh did quake;

And as my damp hair stiffen'd, thus it spake:

'Is man more just that God? Is man more pure

Than he who deems even Seraphs insecure?

Creatures of clay -- vain dwellers in the dust!

The moth survives you, and are ye more just?

Things of day! you wither ere the night,

Heedless and blind to Wisdom's wasted light!'