A Dream

Here, where last night she came, — even she for whom
I would so gladly live, or lie down dead, —
Came in the likeness of a Dream, and said
Such words as thrilled this desolate, ghost-thronged room,
I sit alone now, in the absolute gloom.
Ah, surely on her breast was leaned my head!
Ah, surely on my mouth her kiss was shed,
And all my life broke into scent and bloom.

Give thanks, heart, for thy rootless flower of bliss;
Nor think the gods severe, though thus they seem —
Though thou hast much to bear and much to miss —
Whilst thou, through nights and days to be, canst deem
One thing, and that thing veritably this.
Imperishable, — the memory of a Dream.