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A DREAM.
- IN dreams I met my Love; he stood alone,
- A sadness like pale mist lay on his face;
- His eyes met mine, then as with anguish prone,
- Or yet in shame—he turned away his gaze.
- I made no moan, but even as one in sleep
- Helplessly murmurs, murmuring fell his name,
- Like tears which tremulous eyelids may not keep,
- Or flicker of involuntary flame.
- Sharply he turned: I neither moved nor spoke,
- But all life’s pent‐up passion gathered form,
- Till on our eyes the full‐orbed lovelight broke,
- Even as the sun will break upon a storm,
- And opening wide his arms, he stood! But I,
- Like a pale wave with backward fluttering crest,
- Wavered awhile, then with a rapturous cry,
- Shivering in ecstasy, fell on his breast.
