There dwelleth a Phantom within my breast,
That lieth not down with me to rest,
But whether I wake or whether I sleep,
Whispereth ever, calm and deep,
Like the mystical music that breathes and swells
Through the pearly lips of the ocean shells.
'Tis a ghost from the kingdom of Long Ago;
'Tis the voice of Memory that haunteth me so.
O, many and strange the songs it sings!
But their burden is ever of vanished things;
And whatsoever the strain may be
Of the voice that dwells and speaks in me,
The listening ear of my spirit hears;
And I thrill with rapture or bend in tears
At the varied tones that ever flow
From the lips of the Phantom of Long Ago.
