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All Saints, and All Souls.
Thy birthday is All Saints' Day, my sweet treasure.
Ah! well it may be!
For on us there descended in full measure
All saints in one celestial pleasure,
With thee, dear baby!
For thou wert open, loyal, fearless,
Ah me! forsaken!
Radiant soul in raiment peerless,
A private joy to thee how cheerless,
Until partaken!
It is All Saints' Day; on the morrow,
With flowers offered,
Sons and daughters of dark sorrow
Some faint ray of peace-may borrow
From flowers proffered
On green mounds of the departed,
Meekly saying
To sweet souls of the true-hearted,
"May we not for long be parted,
Here delaying!"
