All Souls' Eve

The grey air was thinning Over the red lake, Shading pale herons Scarcely awake; Until on still grasses, On shores of cold dew, The bright ring of sunset More brightly grew.

Then mooring my curragh In yew trees awhile, I crushed through the wet dusk Of a deep isle; And cleaving boughs over One moonless place, I stood in the pale light Of a pale face.

That face it moved gently As dew on the air;

“O come,” she said softly, Her eyes told me where; Her words they grew dreamy, Her voice gave no fear— The voice of my true love

Dead for a year!

I loosened my curragh From a yew bough, Surrounded by music— I scarcely hear now

Away on grey waters, Away on the lake, And half of my senses Barely awake.