Versos English Edith Wharton Vii

English poem

Vii

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And how should we break faith who have seen Those dead lips plight with the mist between, And how forget, who have seen how soon They lie thus chambered and cold to the moon? How scorn, how hate, how strive, wee too, Who must do so soon as those others do? For it's All Souls' night, and break of the day, And behold, with the light the dead are away. . .