Collected Works (Vol. II)

THE DREAM — 129 A sleep as deep as theirs bestow, Dear angel of my dreams ! Bid time now cease its to-and-fro That I may dwell with thee, and know The soul from that which seems ! The long hair sobs in closer fold And deeper curves of dawn ; The arms bend closer, and the gold Burns brighter, and the eyes are cold With life at last withdrawn. And all the spirit passing down Involves my heart with gray: So the pale stars of even crown The glow of twilight ; dip and drown The last despairs of day. Oh ! closer yet and closer yet The pearl of faces grows. The hair is woven like a net Of moonlight round me : sweet is set The mouth’s unbudded rose. Oh never! did our lips once meet The dream were done for ever, And death should dawn, supremely sweet, One flash of knowledge subtle and fleet Borne on the waveless river. VOL, II. And therefore in the quiet hour I rose from lily pillows And swiftly sought the jasmine bower Still sleeping, moonlight for a dower, And bridal wreaths of willows. And there I laid me down again: The stream flowed softly by: And thought the last time upon pain, Earth’s joy—the sad permuted strain Of tears and ecstasy. And there the dream came floating past Borne in an ivory boat, And all the world sighed low ‘‘ At last.” The shallop waited while I cast My languid limbs afloat To drift with eyelids skyward turned Up to the shadowy dream Shaped like a Jover’s face, that burned ; To drift toward the soul that yearned For this—the hour supreme ! So drifting I resigned the sleep For death’s diviner bliss ; As mists in rain of springtide weep, Life melted in the dewfall deep Of death’s kiss in a kiss.