by Sir Walter Scott
What I am I must not show
What I am thou could'st not know
Something betwixt heaven and hell
Something that neither stood nor fell
Something that through wit or will
May work thee good, may work thee ill
Neither substance quite, nor shadow
Haunting lonely moor and meadow
Dancing by the haunted spring
Riding on the whirlwind's wing
Aping in fantastic fashion
Every change in human passion
While o'er our frozen minds they pass
Like shadows from the mirror'd glass
Wayward, fickle is our mood
Hovering betwixt bad and good
Happier than brief-dated man
Living ten times o'er his span
Far less happy for we have
Help nor hope beyond the grave
Man awakes to joy or sorrow
Ours the sleep that knows no morrow
This is all that I can show
This is all that thou may'st know
