Love and Forgetfulness

Can I not find in sleep some hidden place
Whereto, upon some midnight, I may bring
The image of my love; some dark, deep spring
Wherein no stars are mirrored, and no rays
Of moonlight fall; and there a little space
Look long into her eyes, imagining
Some strange and now impossible sweet thing?
Then, turning, put one hand before my face,

And with the other seize her image fair,
And cast it down into the water deep,
And see my old dreams pass me voiceless by.
Ended, as is some dead man's dying prayer:
And so returning from the land of sleep.
Rise up, be glad, nor know the reason why?