 | Poems |  |
VII
MORNING DREAMS
I asked of Night, that she would take me
Where I could not go by day.
I asked of Day, he should not wake me
Ere the sun was on his way;
Where I could not go by day.
I asked of Day, he should not wake me
Ere the sun was on his way;
7
For as the sun steals from the flowers
The crystal dew by which they live,
He kills the memory of those hours
Which Night, for my delight, will give.
The crystal dew by which they live,
He kills the memory of those hours
Which Night, for my delight, will give.
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