Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895.

Dora Sigerson b 187–

All Souls’ Night

O MOTHER, mother, I swept the hearth, I set his chair and the white board spread,

I prayed for his coming to our kind Lady when Death’s sad doors would let out the dead;

A strange wind rattled the window-pane, and down the lane a dog howled on.

I called his name and the candle flame burnt dim, pressed a hand the doorlatch upon.

Deelish! Deelish! my woe forever that I could not sever coward flesh from fear.

I called his name and the pale Ghost came; but I was afraid to meet my dear.

O mother, mother, in tears I checked the sad hours past of the year that ’s o’er,

Till by God’s grace I might see his face and hear the sound of his voice once more;

The chair I set from the cold and wet, he took when he came from unknown skies

Of the land of the dead; on my bent brown head I felt the reproach of his saddened eyes;

I closed my lids on my heart’s desire, crouched by the fire, my voice was dumb;

At my clean-swept hearth he had no mirth, and at my table he broke no crumb.

Deelish! Deelish! my woe forever that I could not sever coward flesh from fear:

His chair put aside when the young cock cried, and I was afraid to meet my dear.