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

William Allingham 1824–89

A Dream

AllingW

I HEARD the dogs howl in the moonlight night;

I went to the window to see the sight;

All the Dead that ever I knew

Going one by one and two by two.

On they pass’d, and on they pass’d;

Townsfellows all, from first to last;

Born in the moonlight of the lane,

Quench’d in the heavy shadow again.

Schoolmates, marching as when we play’d

At soldiers once—but now more staid;

Those were the strangest sight to me

Who were drown’d, I knew, in the awful sea.

Straight and handsome folk; bent and weak, too;

Some that I lov’d, and gasp’d to speak to;

Some but a day in their churchyard bed;

Some that I had not known were dead.

A long, long crowd—where each seem’d lonely,

Yet of them all there was one, one only,

Raised a head or look’d my way:

She linger’d a moment,—she might not stay.

How long since I saw that fair pale face!

Ah! Mother dear! might I only place

My head on thy breast, a moment to rest,

While thy hand on my tearful cheek were prest!

On, on a moving bridge they made

Across the moon-stream, from shade to shade,

Young and old, women and men;

Many long-forgot, but remember’d then.

And first there came a bitter laughter;

A sound of tears the moment after;

And then a music so lofty and gay,

That every morning, day by day,

I strive to recall it if I may.