Sight, speech, feeling, where were they gone?
Ah! when the door is closed, and the windows darkened, who can tell what passes in the solemn temple of mortality?
Are we unvisited then?
Unfriended?
Uncounselled?
"Behold! The solemn spaces of the night are thronged By bands of tender dreams, that come and go Over the land and sea; they glide at will Through all the dim, strange realms of men asleep, And visit every soul.".