Michael Robartes and the Dancer/Towards Break of Day
TOWARDS BREAK OF DAYWas it the double of my dreamThe woman that by me layDreamed, or did we halve a dreamUnder the first cold gleam of day?
I thought “there is a waterfallUpon Ben Bulban side,That all my childhood counted dear;Were I to travel far and wideI could not find a thing so dear.”My memories had magnifiedSo many times childish delight.
I would have touched it like a childBut knew my finger could but have touchedCold stone and water. I grew wildEven accusing heaven becauseIt had set down among its laws:Nothing that we love over-muchIs ponderable to our touch.
I dreamed towards break of day,The cold blown spray in my nostril.But she that beside me layHad watched in bitterer sleepThe marvellous stag of Arthur, That lofty white stag, leapFrom mountain steep to steep.