The Dead Dream

Between the darkness and the day     As, lost in doubt, I went my way,     I met a shape, as faint as fair,     With star-like blossoms in its hair:     Its body, which the moon shone through,     Was partly cloud and partly dew:     Its eyes were bright as if with tears,     And held the look of long-gone years;     Its mouth was piteous, sweet yet dread,     As if with kisses of the dead:     And in its hand it bore a flower,     In memory of some haunted hour.     I knew it for the Dream I'd had     In days when life was young and glad.     Why had it come with love and woe     Out of the happy Long-Ago?     Upon my brow I felt its breath,     Heard ancient. words of faith and death,     Sweet with the immortality     Of many a fragrant memory:     And to my heart again I took     Its joy and sorrow in a look,     And kissed its eyes and held it fast,     And bore it home from out the past     My Dream of Beauty and of Truth,     I dreamed had perished with my Youth.