Classic Poem

The clicking of the latch,
Then the scratch
Of a match
In the darkness and a sudden spurt of flame —

And I saw you standing there
All astare
In the flare,
And I stepped to meet you, crying on your name.

But the match went out, alack,
And the black
Night came back
To my heart, as I recalled with sudden fear

How upon your dying bed
You had said
That the dead
Return to haunt the faithless once a year.