Oh, are there spirits, can there be
Things of such wondrous mystery?
Oh, are there spirits, can a mind
Float bodiless and unconfined?
Or can the air, the earth, the sea

System generated line number

5

Be filled with immortality?
Some say that in the cold moonlight
There hovereth many a changing sprite.
Some say the wind,—and who can tell?—
Bears spiritsʼ voices in its swell.

System generated line number

10

But if upon our mortal sense
There rules unearthly influence—
If there be sprites in earth or air,
They surely have their dwelling there. 1