Classic Poem

The day was glowing, and so glowed my heart;
But all silent I bore within me the smart,
And I stole forth in silence, as soon as night fell,
Where the rose bloomed in silence—a place I knew well.

I drew near softly and dumb as the grave,
Only my tears my cheeks did lave;
And into the rose's cup did I gaze,
There a light shone out like a glowing blaze.

Near the rose I lay down to sleep peacefully,
When a mocking dream made its sport of me:
I saw there a rosy maiden's form,
A bodice of rose hid her bosom warm.

Something pretty she gave me, and golden and soft,
Which into a gold house I bore aloft;
All things in that house were wondrously gay,
And a bevy was dancing in festive array.

The dancers were twelve, they no pause knew or rest,
Each one's hand in another's hand was firm pressed;
And whenever one dance to its end drew nigh,
Another began ere the first had gone by.

Through the music came to my ear this strain:
“The sweetest of hours will ne'er come again;
Thy whole life has been nothing else but a dream,
And this hour is only a dream in that dream.”

The dream was gone when morning burned,
Quickly my eye to the rose was turned:
Ah woe! instead of the flame's bright glow,
A dull worm lurked in the calyx now.