If So Thine Eyes Would Not Forsake the Dream!
I dreamed of thee last night.—All night thine eyes before me
Shone strangely clear and sweet, and strange delight flowed o'er me
In rippling wave on wave.
All night I dreamed of thee: and dreamed in tenderest fashion
Of the great boon of death that crowns a perfect passion
And of large light that gleams beyond the grave.
How gladly would I cease the feverish pain of living
If only thy sweet eyes might ever be forthgiving
The same soul-maddening gleam:
How gladly would I let the one night's dream continue
Into the dream of death, if therein I could win you,—
If so thine eyes would not forsake the dream!
Shone strangely clear and sweet, and strange delight flowed o'er me
In rippling wave on wave.
All night I dreamed of thee: and dreamed in tenderest fashion
Of the great boon of death that crowns a perfect passion
And of large light that gleams beyond the grave.
How gladly would I cease the feverish pain of living
If only thy sweet eyes might ever be forthgiving
The same soul-maddening gleam:
How gladly would I let the one night's dream continue
Into the dream of death, if therein I could win you,—
If so thine eyes would not forsake the dream!
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