The Spike: or, Victoria College Review September 1921
Where are the souls of all the dead to-night?
The wind blows gusty, strong, and shakes the trees
Down to their sunken roots; can there be any ease
Among the dead to-night?
Do they go wandering out among the stars,
The windy stars' uncertain flickering light?
Poor stumbling, gasping souls, going with sudden fright,
Lost 'midst the stars . . .
Do they tread still their old accustomed ways?
Do they climb yet the old cold deep-scarred hill,
Following misty paths they followed in earth-time, still
Treading accustomed aways?
I think I see strange souls march through the night.
Peering from out my soul I see each form,
Hear their strange muffled voices travel from out the storm,
Heroic in the night.
Soul of my friend, where do you go to-night?
Yours was a wandering spirit, unsatisfied life.
You were a fighter, ever a seeker in strife
Souls of all friends, where do you go to-night?
J. C. B.