Danse Macabre
As I went throng the churchyard on All Soul's Eve[1]
I heard a ghastly ghost-wraith making loud grieve.
He cried out bitterly and wrung his bony hands,
"I lie through the centuries, my ribs in the sands.
In my crumbling coffin-house silent I lie
And stare through empty sockets, Lord, at an empty sky.
My fleshless hands are weary. Lord--my bones crumble away --
As down the slow centuries I wait the Judgment Day.
Lord! Lord! Lord! When will Ye come
To clothe me with the Living Flesh and welcome me Home?
And out of the Silence the vast Silence said:
Lie there forever with dust on thy head.
Lie there forever and crumble to dust away,
For there is no resurrection -- there is no Judgment Day.
Man is but dust and a bleached white bone,
Forever unhappy -- forever alone...
A little time for sorrow and a little time for mirth,
A last mumbled prayer and a handful of earth.
There is no Resurrection--there is no Judgment Day --
Just the long, slow wearing of centuries away.
Then over the churchyard there swept a weary moan
As each ghastly ghost-wraith rose from its stone,
And joining in a circle, seized its neighbor's hand,
Dipping and wheeling in a mournful saraband.
Posturing and grinning they danced away their Hour
Till the tolling of the bell from the grey churchtower.
Then each ghastly ghost-face was lifted toward the sky
In weary supplication to hear its bitter cry
Of: Lord! Lord! Lord! When will Ye come
To clothe me with the Living-Flesh and welcome me Home?
-- Violet M. Cobb
- ↑ All Soul's Eve the dead rise from their graves at the hour of midnight.
