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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374274" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>All Souls</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A THIN moon faints in the sky o'erhead,<br>And dumb in the churchyard lie the dead.<br>Walk we not, Sweet, by garden ways,<br>Where the late rose hangs and the phlox delays,<br>But forth of the gate and down the road,<br>Past the church and the yews, to their dim abode.<br>For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,<br>When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fear not that sound like wind in the trees:<br>It is only their call that comes on the breeze;<br>Fear not the shudder that seems to pass:<br>It is only the tread of their feet on the grass;<br>Fear not the drip of the bough as you stoop:<br>It is only the touch of their hands that grope -<br>For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,<br>When the dead can yearn and the dead can smite.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And where should a man bring his sweet to woo<br>But here, where such hundreds were lovers too?<br>Where lie the dead lips that thirst to kiss,<br>The empty hands that their fellows miss,<br>Where the maid and her lover, from sere to green,<br>Sleep bed by bed, with the worm between?<br>For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,<br>When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And now that they rise and walk in the cold,<br>Let us warm their blood and give youth to the old.<br>Let them see us and hear us, and say: 'Ah, thus<br>In the prime of the year it went with us!'<br>Till their lips drawn close, and so long unkist,<br>Forget they are mist that mingles with mist!<br>For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,<br>When the dead can burn and the dead can smite.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">V</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till they say, as they hear us - poor dead, poor dead! -<br>'Just an hour of this, and our age-long bed -<br>Just a thrill of the old remembered pains<br>To kindle a flame in our frozen veins,<br>Just a touch, and a sight, and a floating apart,<br>As the chill of dawn strikes each phantom heart -<br>For it's turn of the year and All Souls' night,<br>When the dead can hear, and the dead have sight.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VI</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And where should the living feel alive<br>But here in this wan white humming hive,<br>As the moon wastes down, and the dawn turns cold,<br>And one by one they creep back to the fold?<br>And where should a man hold his mate and say:<br>'One more, one more, ere we go their way'?<br>For the year's on the turn, and it's All Souls' night,<br>When the living can learn by the churchyard light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">VII</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And how should we break faith who have seen<br>Those dead lips plight with the mist between,<br>And how forget, who have seen how soon<br>They lie thus chambered and cold to the moon?<br>How scorn, how hate, how strive, we too,<br>Who must do so soon as those others do?<br>For it's All Souls' night, and break of the day,<br>And behold, with the light the dead are away. . . .</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edith+Wharton">Edith Wharton</a><div class=q>
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A THIN moon faints in the sky o'erhead,
And dumb in the churchyard lie the dead.
Walk we not, Sweet, by garden ways,
Where the late rose hangs and the phlox delays,
But forth of the gate and down the road,
Past the church and the yews, to their..."></div>
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