Classic Poem

Within the shadowed Underland
Two figures met, and for a space
Each held the other by the hand—
Each looked into the other's face.

Then he who last had entered, broke
His clasp, and stood in sudden fear,
And as he made The Sign, he spoke:
“You are my friend, who died last year!”

“Yea, truly, I am he who died.
Why do you quail?” the other said.
“I do not know,” the first replied,
“But I have always feared the dead.

“I feared their hands were cold and thin,
Their ghosts like pallid flame would shine;
But now, I see I erred therein—
Your body seems alike to mine.”

The other heard him to the end;
Then, very pitiful, he said:
“Nay—fear the dead no more, dear friend:
Did you not know you, too, are dead?”