Classic Poem

What are you, fireflies,
That come as daylight dies?
Are you the old, old dead
Creeping through the long grass
To see the green leaves move,
And feel the light wind pass?

The larkspur in my garden
Is a sea of rose and blue,
The white moth is a ghost ship
Drifting through.

Honeysuckle breaks a flask,
And a breeze on pleasure bent
Catches in her little hands
The sharp scent.

In the darkness and the dew
Come the little flying flames,
Are they the forgotten dead
Without names?

Did they love the leaves and grass,
Winds and gardens, long ago
With a love that draws them home
Where things grow?

For an hour with green leaves
Love immortal leaped to flame,
From the earth into the night
Old hearts came.