Phantoms of all my lovely sins,
Who come to me at night;
Bring sad fingers of the rain,
To wash my dreams from sight.
They take away my eyes and ears,
Giving no more thought for sorrow;
For they have spent my future years,
In surviving for tomorrow.
My tears are falling with the rain,
Capricious and unholy;
Tapping at the window pane,
Running sad and slowly.
I have lived with all the beauty,
Of the churchyard's friendless flowers;
Let me this night find duty
In the phantom's moonlit bowers.
Every withered leaf shall fade,
When bright October passes;
And yet the day brings sun and shade
To sift through fragile grasses.
Phantoms of temptations heed,
My plea to be forgiving;
Don't you know that I have need,
To be dying with the living?
Copyright © elizabeth wesley