THE DREAM
Through the still streets whose windows were shut down
I wandered in a dumb and unknown town,
Where streets wound on and on, and had no name,
Where unseen fingers brushed my sleeve, and came
To a walled place of trees, and a voice said,
“Seek here, seek here, and you shall find your dead!”
And stooping down beneath the boughs asway
I found your name, and knew that there you lay.
And the blue twilight fell, and the cold dew,
While I lay in the grass and spoke to you....
So, when I rose, “Now God be thanked,” said I,
“Who set my feet to find you, where you lie.
My own, my own, I shall not dream again
You lie uncoffined in the pitiless rain....”
And woke; and knew I dreamed; and turned, to see
There, on my pillow, the old agony....