When on my bed the moonlight falls,
       I know that in thy place of rest
       By that broad water of the west,
There comes a glory on the walls:
Thy marble bright in dark appears,
       As slowly steals a silver flame
       Along the letters of thy name,
And o'er the number of thy years.
The mystic glory swims away;
      From off my bed the moonlight dies;
      And closing eaves of wearied eyes
I sleep till dusk is dipt in gray:
And then I know the mist is drawn
      A lucid veil from coast to coast,
      And in the dark church like a ghost
Thy tablet glimmers to the dawn.
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