| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | All Souls’ Eve | | By Florence Kilpatrick Mixter |
| | | HARK!—do you hear the choral dead? | |
| Forgotten now their pride | |
| Who on this night would have us know | |
| They passed unsatisfied. | |
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| They shiver like the thin brown leaves | 5 |
| Upon a sapless tree, | |
| Clinging with palsied, withered might | |
| To their identity. | |
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| Their voices are the unearthly winds | |
| That die before the dawn; | 10 |
| And each one has some tale to tell, | |
| And, having told, is gone. . . . . . . . . . . . . | |
| Ah!—you who come with sea-blue eyes, | |
| And dead these hundred years, | |
| Be satisfied! I hold the cup | 15 |
| Still brimming with your tears. | | | | |
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