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To-night—'tis said the dead come back to-night—

They who once made our earth so bright,

Who filled life's morning with a golden glow

That all its darkness did o'erflow—

To-night, to-night, they cross the dark-flowing tide

That doth our land from their fair land divide.

And her dark eyes, so soft and large and deep—

Eyes that God meant should never weep—

Looked all the richness of her heart to mine,

Till round me heaven's light did shine,

And we at last had found the gift divine

That turns life's bitter draughts to richest wine.

The moonlight glimmers o'er my study walls, Silence within the wide, old halls' Holds watch, shrouded in sombre black; And all the past comes flooding back Upon my heart, with waves of incense sweet And so I watch the coming of her feet

Across the prairie grasses and upon the stair— The flowing of her raven hair; The baby dimple in her rounded chin That love, sweet love, was cradled in. With her tender voice and her face of light— Will she come? Oh, God! may she come to-night!

And will she know me? Ah! the cruel years Have beat my heart with rain of tears Since she went out to mysteries unknown; The glory of my youth hath flown Beneath the heavy bruises and the wild, sharp pain Oh! will she know me if she comes again?