Chapter IX

There is a world in which we dwell;
And yet a world invisible!
And do not think that naught can be,
Save only what with eyes ye see;
I tell ye, that, this very hour,
Had but your sight a spirit’s power,
Ye would be looking, eye to eye,
At a terrific company!
A thousand shapes are at your side,
A thousand by your bed abide,
A thousand, hellish demon sprites,
That bend ye to their foul delights;
And ye are, every day, the hand,
The tool of an infernal band,
That with you dwell,—are one with you,
And govern ye in all ye do,
Save, when ye live in prayer, or hear
A silent whisper in your ear,
From one,—your friend in heav’n and earth,
The guardian angel of your birth.