 | The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang |  |
108
Another Way
Come to me in my dreams, and then,
One saith, I shall be well again,
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
One saith, I shall be well again,
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
Nay, come not thou in dreams, my sweet!
With shadowy robes, and silent feet,
And with the voice, and with the eyes
That greet me in a soft surprise.
With shadowy robes, and silent feet,
And with the voice, and with the eyes
That greet me in a soft surprise.
Last night, last night, in dreams we met,
And how, to-day, shall I forget?
Or how, remembering, restrain
Mine incommunicable pain?
And how, to-day, shall I forget?
Or how, remembering, restrain
Mine incommunicable pain?
Nay, where thy land and people are,
Dwell thou remote, apart, afar,
Nor mingle with the shapes that sweep
The melancholy ways of sleep.
Dwell thou remote, apart, afar,
Nor mingle with the shapes that sweep
The melancholy ways of sleep.
But if, perchance, the shadows break—
If dreams depart, if men awake,
If face to face at length we see,
Be thine the voice to welcome me.
If dreams depart, if men awake,
If face to face at length we see,
Be thine the voice to welcome me.
| The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang | |