Trembling only lest the whole dream might take
Flight, like his rapt girl-Bride, and he awake
To find himself, widowed, lost, as before,
Companionless upon the wild sea-shore.
And yet. Was it not breath, a woman’s breath,
Fanning his cheeks? Could even unkind Death
Have the heart to cheat, with the goal so near?
Was not the light he saw day’s, warm and clear?
And, sure, the landscape spread before his view
Was of meadows and woods, all which he knew?