Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/61

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COMMUNION
I have spoken with the dead;From the silence of my bedI have heard them in the night.Their voices are as whiteAs altar candles. Their voices are as gold as wheat,And clustered in the dark their words are sweetAs ripened fruit. Their voices are the color of dim rainOver grass where spring has lain.Their speaking is an orchard of delight.I have heard them in the night;Their lips bloomed into heavy songThat hung like bells above me. You are wrongWho say the dead lie still:I heard them sing untilThe cup of silence fell in two and layBroken by beauty of what dead men say.
There is no loveliness I cannot see.There is no wall too stern for me,There is no door that can withstandThe lifted symbol of my hand.
I know an ancient shibboleth:I pass, for I have talked with Death!
Poetry, A Magazine of VerseHildegarde Flanner

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