THE GHOSTS OF REVELLERS.

By Rose Hawthorne Lathrop

At purple eyes beside the grain,

Our loves on altars we had burned,

And mixed our tribute with the dew,

Our tears, when rosy dawn returned.

Our voices we had joined with song

Of bird ecstatic, light, and free;

Our laughter rollicked with the brook

Running through darkness merrily.

At purple eyes beside the rim

Of frozen lakes our loves we burned,

And slid away when stillness reigned:

Deep the vast woods our bodies urned.

In starlit night along the shade

Of our dusk tombs our spirits glide;

We hear the echoing of the wind,

We breathe the sighs we living sighed.