GHOSTS
The wraith of death men speak of sneeringly—
Recalling in a joke its sight or name—
But when they find these ghosts are just as they,
They'll ponder long the way through which they came.
The wraithlike form inhabiting man's clay,
Which men deride, except those who have seen—
The part God made which nevermore can die,
That being freed should be His own and clean.
—Shakespeare's Spirit

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