The amazing revelation of a Fall evening.
|When night approaches the midnight hour,
The tombs compel no restraint and mausoleums
Unlock their doors. For the long-dead would take
Air in their sacred places, bearing no ashen or pallid faces. And How I came to spy this scene, whether
Phantasm or dream I cannot say, but witness I did
This stately promenade in hoop dresses and ringlet tresses.
Where time overlapped time without conflict as they sauntered
To familial places, gazing again on familiar faces.
But then the night did wane, and the church bell began its Sad refrain.
To end, to end their brief respite from their long-ago beginning of eternal night.
And I, Emboldened to beg the favor of one
Who caught my sight, did venture speak to this specter of night.
Dear Madam, if I might before you go but touch your hand and
Confirm if this be dream or no. Dear sir, though I know not why
You view this sight, but what you behold is true, though forbidden
Is a touch from you. But you may visit me at Stone Oak sepulcher
Where my repose is fair, never molested by the cold night air.
Then, as on the horizon rose an amber glow, she, smiling, faded
As melting snow. And I, reclining in that garden of stone, knew
From then I would never be alone.