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Siegfried Sassoon - Wraiths
Work rating: Low

They know not the green leaves;   
In whose earth-haunting dream   
Dimly the forest heaves,   
And voiceless goes the stream.   
  Strangely they seek a place 
  In love’s night-memoried hall;   
  Peering from face to face,   
  Until some heart shall call   
  And keep them, for a breath,   
  Half-mortal… (Hark to the rain!)…
  They are dead… (O hear how death   
  Gropes on the shutter’d pane!)
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