Classic Poem

Am I not all alone? The world is still
In passionless slumber;—not a tree but feels
The far pervading hush, and softer steals
The misty river by. Yon broad, bare hill
Looks coldly up to heaven, and all the stars
Seem eyes deep fixed in silence, as if bound
By some unearthly spell;—no other sound
But the owl's unfrequent moan. Their airy cars
The winds have stationed on the mountain peaks.
Am I not all alone?—A spirit speaks
From the abyss of night, “Not all alone,—
Nature is round thee with her banded powers,
And ancient genius haunts thee in these hours;—
Mind and its kingdom now are all thine own.”