And with the anguished call the vision broke,
The equal sky of summer shone o’erhead;
The earliest birds were singing as I woke.—
All was a dream, except that she was dead,
And that familiar pain I tasted once again.
Thank God, it was a dream! How could we bear
To see her stand with wistful eyes down bent,
In the old likeness that she used to wear,
And know her sad and only half-content,