'Tis whiter than an Indian Pipe—

'Tis whiter than an Indian Pipe —'Tis dimmer than a Lace —No stature has it, like a FogWhen you approach the place —Nor any voice imply it hereOr intimate it thereA spirit — how doth it accost —What function hath the Air?This limitless HyperboleEach one of us shall be —'Tis Drama — if HypothesisIt be not Tragedy —