 | The Autumn Garden |  |
55
The Tyrant Dream
This living world seems dazed and submarine,
Drenched in the lunar splendour of the night,
And, like owls' golden eyes, are sparkling bright
Stars thro' the beechen boughs that intervene;
Drenched in the lunar splendour of the night,
And, like owls' golden eyes, are sparkling bright
Stars thro' the beechen boughs that intervene;
And down this vitreous wilderness of green
Thy pale fantastic shade, O false delight,
Importunately challenges the flight
Of feebler fancies, cool and mild and mean.
Thy pale fantastic shade, O false delight,
Importunately challenges the flight
Of feebler fancies, cool and mild and mean.
Dream, I forbade thy presence here with me!
Hot shade, I drave thee from my paradise!
Delight, thou shouldst enslave my heart no more!
Hot shade, I drave thee from my paradise!
Delight, thou shouldst enslave my heart no more!
But, in this glassy night of reverie,
Thou hast rent the daylight artifice of lies!
Tyrannic dream, entrance me as before.
Thou hast rent the daylight artifice of lies!
Tyrannic dream, entrance me as before.
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