Classic Poem

TO ETHELINDE

Fair one, half known in memory, half ideal,
Who in my morning dream wert by my side
Walking and close-communing — like a bride
Leaning upon my arm: — ah, why not real,
Beautiful vision, that white dream-like form,
Those soft, dark eyes, those clustered tresses curling
So tendril-like adown thy cheek! Lo, whirling
In my chaotic fancy comes a storm,
Unseen and silent, but enough to scare
Thy bright form from my side, while ran my joy
Fullest and deepest. What dost thou destroy,
Relentless Day! Waking I murmur " Where,
Where is bright Ethelinde? Is it all o'er? "
Then close my eyes and try to dream of her once more.