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Guests come thither, and depart, Free of step, and light of heart; Children, with sweet visions blessed, In the haunted chambers rest; One alone unslumbering lies When the night hath sealed all eyes, One quick heart and watchful ear, Listening for those whispers clear.

Seest thou where the woodbine flowers O'er yon low porch hang in showers? Startling faces of the dead, Pale, yet sweet, One lone woman's entering tread There still meet! Some with young smooth foreheads fair, Faintly shining through bright hair; Some with reverend locks of snow— All, all buried long ago!