Classic Poem

Sweet are white dreams i' the dusk, yet sweeter far
When the sea-music fills those haunting dreams:
When light survives alone in each white star
And in the far white shine of a myriad gleams:
When from white flowers, that through the violet gloom
Shine faintly phosphorescent, strange breaths steal
And in the lamp-lit silence of the room
The longing, yearning soul makes mute appeal:
When nought is heard, and yet the tired hands stray
To meet white dream-like hands soft floating by:
When the disanchor'd mind sails far away
'Mid the suspense of an imagined sigh—
'Tis thee, 'tis thee, O dear white soul, 'tis thee,
White joy, white Peace, white Balm that healeth me!