All Souls' Eve

From sea-ooze and from river-bed, from churchyards old and new,
The dead men rise and seek their own, and I, my dear, seek you. 
Against your hair, against your hand, my kissing lips I set: 
My heart beats on your heart again, Margaret. 

O good it is to see old love re-lighted in your eyes, 
As we meet down by the river beneath October skies! 
O good it is to touch your hand and know that you forget 
The grave-dust that has clogged my feet, Margaret! 

I had not known you, too, were dead, my sweet, until to-day; 
I wondered that no footstep came to strike fire through my clay. 
But glad I am to know no man will see Time's passing fret 
The pallid flower of your face, Margaret.

Did you think long as I thought long before our hands might meet. 
And are you glad as I am glad that here our wandering feet 
Are stayed that might have strayed so far afield, and never met 
On any kind November Eve, Margaret? 

And are you glad as I am glad that we have died so young. 
Before the May dew off my feet, the honey off your tongue 
Had died and dried? And are you glad there is no period set 
To this, our loving after death, Margaret?

And are you glad the wan water rose to your lips, and sealed 
You to be always fresh and fair as any flower in field? 
And are you glad the fever lit a fire no wind could fret 
And burned my body unto death, Margaret? 

It is my soul that holds your soul, and not my hand of clay 
That holds your hand, and from your hair wrings the cold dew away: 
That feels old love alive again and knoweth no regret, 
But blesses Death we died so young, Margaret.