i heard the dogs howl in the moonlight night;

i went to the window to see the sight;

all the dead that ever i knew

going one by one and two by two.

on they pass'd, and on they pass'd;

townsfellows all, from first to last;

born in the moonlight of the lane,

quench'd in the heavy shadow again.

schoolmates, marching as when we play'd

at soldiers once—but now more staid;

those were the strangest sight to me

who were drown'd, i knew, in the awful sea.

[pg 130]

straight and handsome folk; bent and weak, too;

some that i loved, and gasp'd to speak to;

some but a day in their churchyard bed;

some that i had not known were dead.

a long, long crowd—where each seem'd lonely,

yet of them all there was one, one only,

raised a head or look'd my way.

she linger'd a moment,—she might not stay.

how long since i saw that fair pale face!

ah! mother dear! might i only place

my head on thy breast, a moment to rest,

while thy hand on my tearful cheek were prest!

on, on, a moving bridge they made

across the moon-stream, from shade to shade,

young and old, women and men;

many long-forgot, but remember'd then.

and first there came a bitter laughter;

a sound of tears the moment after;

and then a music so lofty and gay,

that every morning, day by day,

i strive to recall it if i may.