MY faithful dead come back to me in dreams, Just as they were before they went away: Gait, gesture, look, they are the same, it seems, As when they fellowed with me, day by day. I marvel at their semblance, hold my breath Lest, if I breathe, the vision should depart; Almost they give me faith there is no death, But only love that leaps from heart to heart. But, oh, I would not hold them as they come Briefly beside my bed and bless my sight, Speaking of little things, recalling some Forgotten moment touched with old delight! A hand-clasp, yes, sweet words, even a kiss ... No more, they must not stay; as light steals through My room, I gladly let them go, and this Is all I ever ask of them to do. They must go back again. I hold too dear Their memory to break the tender spell; I could not bear to see them suffer here, My changeless dead, who rest so long and well. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ASSAULT HEROIC by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES RECUERDO by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE HOUSE OF LIFE: THE SONNET (INTRODUCTION) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE RECONCILEMENT by JOHN SHEFFIELD OH, TORTURE NOT MY SOUL! by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS ADOLESCENCE by MAVIS CLARE BARNETT |