 | Le Cahier Jaune |  |
7
DREAMS.
I dreamed that I was sitting at a feast;—
The shrill insensate laughter rang, and eyes
Flashing, made light of bitter memories;
And they that spake me fairest, loved me least.
The shrill insensate laughter rang, and eyes
Flashing, made light of bitter memories;
And they that spake me fairest, loved me least.
But one that sate so silent, you had deemed
Her haply proud, sent such a wistful gaze,
From eyes down-dropt and lips of sad amaze,
That I awoke—ah! would I had not dreamed.
Her haply proud, sent such a wistful gaze,
From eyes down-dropt and lips of sad amaze,
That I awoke—ah! would I had not dreamed.
As one that sits amid the thunderous din
Of rattling gear, and wheels that grate and grind,
Far into night prolonging his grim day;
And past the trembling casements, clear-defined
Steals the pure quiet moon, that seems to say
Peace, peace is mine; a peace thou may'st not win.
Of rattling gear, and wheels that grate and grind,
Far into night prolonging his grim day;
And past the trembling casements, clear-defined
Steals the pure quiet moon, that seems to say
Peace, peace is mine; a peace thou may'st not win.
Cambridge, 1885.
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