Anne Simpson Scott 1895-1932

Anne Simpson Scott 1895- 1932 Friends, my friends, I do remember. On the night before leaving to France in 1917 George held my hand. He held it firmly in his perspiring palm, Held it and would not relinquish His gallant grasp. I recall too, He, taking his left loving index finger And smoothly, affectionately, precisely, Stroking my left accepting index finger Like a soothing balm, like a healing descending brook As it lapps and caresses the shivering earth In the silent tranquil evenings of renewed Spring. Friends, my friends I do remember. On our wedding day in 1921 George held my hand. He held it firmly in his perspiring palm, Held it and would not let go. Not even for five fateful forgotten minutes. Friends, dear friends, I do remember. On the morning I died in 1932 George held my hand. He held it gently, reassuringly, resignedly In his trembling perspiring palm, Held it quietly, bravely, sadly And would not let go. And now friends, we are together again Here in this deep sleeping earth This dreaming drowsy earth Here in Mt. Olive Cemetery He on top of me Our skeletal long fingered hands Enjoined, enmeshed and entwined Forever in the dust Forever in the dark blooms of death. Oh friends, my friends I do remember.