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The Ghosts of the Gods
by E. M. Hill
The souls of men at last find peace
When in the grave their bodies lie,
But in what place ’twixt heaven and hell
May rest the ghosts of the gods that die?
Cursed and forgotten they wander now
By midnight paths when the night owls cry.
The hollow wind and whispering rain—
These are the ghosts of the gods that die.
And spectral birch trees, moaning low,
Have seen them when the moon rides high;
Ishtar, Ashtoreth, Re and Ma—
The homeless ghosts of the gods that die.
