(All Souls' Eve, November 1)

O good it is to see old love relighted 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 that Time the Spoiler never set
Mark on the 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.