Dreams Trespassing
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OF all the spectres feared and then forgot That haunt us sleeping, this is dreadfullest— Still to seek help and find it not Through those dim lands that sleep and know not rest; Followed for ever by a formless fear That drawing near and nearer hungrily Lowers against our dearest dear, And nought can shield them from that jeopardy; To see the unknown horror rearing slow, Hang high above them like a craning wave, And in that endless moment know Intolerable impotence to save. Yet 'whelmed the dream-doom never one dear head, Our own hearts woke us with their passionate beat: Straightway we found all peril fled And lay, awaiting dawn's deliverance sweet. · · · · · · Now growing with the strengthening daylight strong Doth that ill dream, the sleep-world's confines breaking, Walk at our elbow all day long To leave us only at a worse awaking. |
"What shall be done with all these tears of ours?"
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THE poor proud mother in the sad old tale, That wept her lovely children's loss in vain Grew one with her own tears' most bitter rain; The immortal Gods that spared not for her wail Then made from out her grief's eternal flow A never-failing fountain, at whose brink Wayfaring men oft stooped them down to drink And blessed those Gods, whose envy wrought her woe. So may these bitter springs with years grow sweet, And welling ever upward full and strong, As when from many a broken heart they burst, Stay not for frost nor fail for summer heat, But make fair pools life's desert way along Where unborn generations slake their thirst. |