THE DREAM

Through the still streets whose windows were shut down I wandered in a dumb and unknown town, Where streets wound on and on, and had no name, Where unseen fingers brushed my sleeve, and came To a walled place of trees, and a voice said, “Seek here, seek here, and you shall find your dead!” And stooping down beneath the boughs asway I found your name, and knew that there you lay. And the blue twilight fell, and the cold dew, While I lay in the grass and spoke to you.... So, when I rose, “Now God be thanked,” said I, “Who set my feet to find you, where you lie. My own, my own, I shall not dream again You lie uncoffined in the pitiless rain....” And woke; and knew I dreamed; and turned, to see There, on my pillow, the old agony....