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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Florence Kilpatrick Mixter

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

All Souls’ Eve

Florence Kilpatrick Mixter

HARK!—do you hear the choral dead?

Forgotten now their pride

Who on this night would have us know

They passed unsatisfied.

They shiver like the thin brown leaves

Upon a sapless tree,

Clinging with palsied, withered might

To their identity.

Their voices are the unearthly winds

That die before the dawn;

And each one has some tale to tell,

And, having told, is gone.

…………

Ah!—you who come with sea-blue eyes,

And dead these hundred years,

Be satisfied! I hold the cup

Still brimming with your tears.