The Night Of All Saints Poem by Virna Sheard

He will come back across the roads unmeasured-
Lit by old moons and flaming sun and star;
There are so many things he loved and treasured
To call him from afar.

Joy of the distant heaven, howe'er entrancing,
Never could charm him from the earth he knew,
Scent of the rose-leaves-music, mirth and dancing-
He will come back to you.

He will come back-no golden bars can hold him-
He will come back to fire and candle shine;
He will be near, though you may not behold him,
And though he gives no sign.