Old, peaceful folk long since passed out of mind,
And little children--one whose hand held still
An earth-grown daffodil.

And here I saw one pausing for a space
To lift a wistful face
Up to a certain window where there dreamed
A little brood left motherless; and there
One turned to where the unploughed fields lay bare;
And others lingering passed--but one there seemed
So over glad to haste, she scarce could wait
To reach the churchyard gate!

The farrier's little maid who loved too well
And died--I may not tell
How glad she seemed. My neighbors, young and old,
With backward glances lingered as they went;
Only upon one face was all content,
A sorrow comforted--a peace untold.
I watched them through the swinging gate--the dawn
Stayed till the last had gone.


A BALLAD OF HALLOWE'EN: THEODOSIA GARRISON

_All night the wild wind on the heath_
_Whistled its song of vague alarms;_
_All night in some mad dance of death_
_The poplars tossed their naked arms._