Leffingwell died suddenly and violently, and the people around him had not seen it coming. To them he had always seemed calm, almost asleep inside, so his “dying leap” and angry, profane farewell were a shock. In that final outburst, he told them exactly why they should not grieve, weep, or ever wish him back. The speaker and the others have taken that warning to heart. They can imagine him now as a friendly ghost among other untroubled spirits, but they do not dare ask about him or call him back. They are convinced that if they did, he would rise and haunt them terribly, especially at night. The last line—“Did we not hear him when he told us so?”—is not a real question but a nervous reminder of his threat. The mood is eerie and darkly ironic, full of awe at his hidden pain and fear of disturbing his rest.
Leffingwell III: Requiescat — Summary
We never knew the sorrow or the pain Within him, for he seemed as one asleep-- Until he faced us with a dying leap, And with a blast of paramount, profane, And vehement valediction did explain To each of us, in words that we shall keep, Why we were not to wonder or to weep, Or ever dare to wish him back again. He may be now an amiable shade, With merry fellow-phantoms unafraid Around him--but we do not ask. We know That he would rise and haunt us horribly, And be with us o’ nights of a certainty. Did we not hear him when he told us so?