Musing in the gloom and glow,
Lo! I see a ghostly train,
Spectres conjured by the brain,
Images of long ago.
From the soul rise strangled cries,
Death-groans from the sins it wrought;
From the mind spring buried thought,
Poisoned hopes, vain sympathies.
In a weird, phantasmal band,
Seen as though in life’s eclipse,
Perished women kiss my lips,
Dead men take me by the hand.
Infant figures glad with glee,
Cluster in unbidden band,
Clasp my old and palsied hand
Pulsing high with memory.
Pass light fingers through my hair,
Once like their’s all tangled gold,
Silvery now and thin and old,
Bleached with age and blanched with care.
Softly touch my parchment skin,
Laugh and touch again and ask
That I throw aside time’s mask,
Dull with years and dark with sin.
Look into my dim, dead eyes,
Dimmer now with tears that start
From the little left of heart
That to those dear souls outflies.
Crowds of spirit-children pass,
Faces, lost long years ago,
Buds, soon buried in the snow,
Playmates—comrades in the class.
Chide me for my childish tears,
Bid me join the childish game,
Call me by a childish name
None have named for scores of years.
Youths, high-souled, with aims that age
Neither blighted nor betrayed,
Look with truth-lit eyes that made
Noble life’s short pilgrimage.