At Dawn

Here, at this day's dawn, desolate and gray,
Whose light divides the wan and watery skies,
Seeing with troubled soul and sleepless eyes,
I think upon my love so far away.
Sees she, as I, the dawning of this day,
Around whose birth the wind presaging sighs?
Or roams her soul the twilight land that lies
'Twixt life and death, wherein all ghosts have sway, —

Wherein the pallid lips of days long dead
Unclose and murmur as they hover round
The souls that thread Sleep's mysteries without sound?
Lo! even now, some day remembered.
May to her heart be saying all I fain
Would say myself, that she may hear again.