In Memory of Those Deceased

The Dead Return

By: Edgar Guest

The dead return. I know they do;

The glad smile may have passed from view,

The ringing voice that cheered us so

In that remembered long ago

Be stilled, and yet in sweeter ways

It speaks to us throughout our days.

The kindly father comes again

To guide us through the haunts of men,

And always near, their sons to greet

Are lingering the mothers sweet.

About us where so ever we tread

Hover the spirits of our dead;

We cannot see them as we could

In bygone days, when near they stood

And shared the joys and grieves that came,

But they are with us just the same.

They see us as we plod along,

And proudly smile when we are strong,

And sigh and grieve the selfsame way

When thoughtlessly we go astray.

I sometimes think it hurts the dead

When into sin and shame we're led,

And that they feel a thrill divine

When we've accomplished something fine.

And sometimes thoughts that come at night

Seem more like messages that might

Have whispered been by one we love,

Whose spirit has been called above.

So wise the counsel, it must be

That all we are the dead can see.

The dead return. They come to share

Our laughter and our bit of care;

They glory, as they used to do,

When we are splendid men and true,

In all the joy that we have won,

And they are proud of what we've done.

They suffer when we suffer woe;

All things about us here they know.

And though we never see them here

Their spirits hover very near.