From the Land of Dreams By John Todhunter. With an introduction by T. W. Rolleston |
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A COMPLAINT |
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 | From the Land of Dreams |  |
A COMPLAINT
I
Like a stone on my heart grief's come to lie,Sadly as phantoms my days go by,
Though shines the sun at our cottage door.
He gilds the corn with the year's first gold,
While through my veins the sick blood creeps cold:
My Heart's Beloved comes never more!
II
Grief my handmaid, I sit and spin,With grief my comrade go out and in,
I lay the table, I sweep the floor;
But all I do is a senseless dream,
And here a stranger myself I seem;
For my Heart's Beloved comes never more!
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III
Grief lies awake in my bed with me,Like dim corpse-candles the stars I see,
When the moon shines in, as she did before;
O mother, mother! her face I dread,
'Tis like the face on my own death-bed,
Since my Heart's Beloved comes never more.
| From the Land of Dreams | |