THE DREAMER
Reading edition
O thou who giving helm and sword, Gav'st, too, the rusting rain, And starry dark's all tender dews To blunt and stain:
Out of the battle I am sped, Unharmed, yet stricken sore; A living shape amid whispering shades On Lethe's shore.
No trophy in my hands I bring, To this sad, sighing stream, The neighings and the trumps and cries Were but a dream.
Traitor to life, of life betrayed: O, of thy mercy deep, A dream my all, the all I ask Is sleep.