A Dream of Age

I dreamt last night that I was very old,
And very lonesome, very sad of heart;
And, shunning men, dwelt in a place apart
Where none my barren sorrow might behold;
There brooded grim beside my hearthstone cold
Cold days of shadow, dying, till with flame
Of happy memory once more you came
With laughing eyes and hair of burning gold.

— O eyes of sudden joy! O storm-blown hair !
O pale face of my love ! why do you rise
Amid the haunting spectres of despair
To trouble their gaunt vigil with my cries ? —
In tears I woke and knew the dream was true :
My youth was lost, and lost the love of you.