"Unseen of day, I let it fall
Within the shadow of my hair.
O little dream, that bloomed so fair,
The waters hide you after all!"
5.
"Is it not dawn?" she cried, and raised her head,
"Or hath the sun, grey-shrouded, yesternight,
Gone down with Love for ever to the dead?
When Love has perished, can there yet be light?"
"Yea, it is dawn," one answered: "see the dew