To L.H.B. (1894 - 1915)

Last night for the first time since you were dead I walked with you, my brother, in a dream. We were at home again beside the stream Fringed with tall berry bushes, white and red. "Don't touch them: they are poisonous," I said. But your hand hovered, and I saw a beam Of strange, bright laughter flying round your head And as you stooped I saw the berries gleam. "Don't you remember? We called them Dead Man's Bread!" I woke and heard the wind moan and the roar Of the dark water tumbling on the shore. Where--where is the path of my dream for my eager feet? By the remembered stream my brother stands Waiting for me with berries in his hands... "These are my body. Sister, take and eat."