Classic Poem

I met a stranger on the brink of sleep:
Hooded he stood, whose eyes acknowledged sorrow.
He wrote across the darkness of my mind
One word, Tomorrow .

Through dream we went. Our way was cragged and steep,
And what the future told we might not find.
Then in that face which I had thought unknown
I recognised my own.

" Stranger," I said, " since you and I are one,
" Let us go back. Let us undo what's done."