A thin moon faints in the sky o’erhead,
And dumb in the churchyard lie the dead.
Walk we not, Sweet, by garden ways,
Where the late rose hangs and the phlox delays,
But forth of the gate and down the road,
Past the church and the yews, to their dim abode.
For it’s turn of the year and All Souls’ night,
When the dead can hear and the dead have sight.
— from All Souls by Edith Wharton (1903)
Hi Pratibha,
It was great to have you and Pushpa join us at our SJSU Nonfiction Writing Workshop. I thought “The Literary Nest” sounded familiar when you first mentioned it, but I was having a senior moment and didn’t make the connection that it was a site I had been previously following. Ok, got it now! 🙂
Since we’re neighbors in the same cyber-hood, feel free to visit or drop me a word.
LikeLike