“He knoweth not that the dead are there.”

In yonder halls reclining
   Are forms surpassing fair,
And brilliant lights are shining,
   But, oh! the dead are there!

There’s music, song and dance,
   There’s banishment of care,
And mirth in every glance,
   But, oh! the dead are there!

The wine cup’s sparkling glow
   Blends with the viands rare,
There’s revelry and show,
   But still, the dead are there!

‘Neath that flow of song and mirth
   Runs the current of despair,
But the simple sons of earth
   Know not the dead are there!

They’ll shudder start and tremble,
   They’ll weep in wild despair
When the solemn truth breaks on them,
   That the dead. the dead are there!