Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.
By Ellen Mackay HutchinsonCortissoz1121 On Kingston Bridge
O
Through hurrying mists in shrouded glow;
The boding night-wind made its moan,
The mighty river crept below.
’T was All Souls’ night, and to and fro
The quick and dead together walked,
The quick and dead together talked,
On Kingston Bridge.
Once was their hate too deep for fears:
One drew his rapier as he came,
Upleapt his anger like a flame.
With clash of mail he faced his foe,
And bade him stand and meet him so.
He felt a graveyard wind go by
Cold, cold as was his enemy.
A stony horror held him fast.
The Dead looked with a ghastly stare,
And sighed “I know thee not,” and passed
Like to the mist, and left him there
On Kingston Bridge.
The quick and dead together walked,
The quick and dead together talked,
On Kingston Bridge.
With grief that was too deep for tears
They parted last.
He clasped her hand, and in her eyes
He sought Love’s rapturous surprise.
“Oh Sweet!” he cried, “hast thou come back
To say thou lov’st thy lover still?”
—Into the starlight, pale and cold,
She gazed afar,—her hand was chill:
“Dost thou remember how we kept
Our ardent vigils?—how we kissed?—
Take thou these kisses as of old!”
An icy wind about him swept;
“I know thee not,” she sighed, and passed
Into the dim and shrouding mist
On Kingston Bridge.
The quick and dead together walked,
The quick and dead together talked,
On Kingston Bridge.