Irene's Dream
Like some bright stranger from a nobler star
Bewildered by the littleness of this.
So—unlike others, though she knew it not,
She lived on heights and knew not they were high—
Apart and knew not that she lived alone.—
The height, th' unlikeness, and the loneliness
She would have known them all, but was to die
Ere she had sent her soul abroad to choose
Its own true mates out of the crowded world
And work out its own beautiful task on earth.
Some task was waiting for her—so we deem,
Its hopes, its fears, and failures all untried.
But a cloud came, no darker than a dream,
And of a phantom of the mind she died.
One morn she looked and spoke as through a veil,
Her looks and voice, so delicately bright,
Now muffled in a cold and dreary change,
Yet could not tender questioning prevail
To learn what meant her mind's distemper strange.
But as days passed she half shook off the dream,
And now on the familiar ivory keys
Would ponderingly a faltering music play
As if recalling some unwritten theme,
Murmuring the while sweet words they scarce could catch,
Ranged in so quaint a sequence that they yearned
Bewildered by the littleness of this.
So—unlike others, though she knew it not,
She lived on heights and knew not they were high—
Apart and knew not that she lived alone.—
The height, th' unlikeness, and the loneliness
She would have known them all, but was to die
Ere she had sent her soul abroad to choose
Its own true mates out of the crowded world
And work out its own beautiful task on earth.
Some task was waiting for her—so we deem,
Its hopes, its fears, and failures all untried.
But a cloud came, no darker than a dream,
And of a phantom of the mind she died.
One morn she looked and spoke as through a veil,
Her looks and voice, so delicately bright,
Now muffled in a cold and dreary change,
Yet could not tender questioning prevail
To learn what meant her mind's distemper strange.
But as days passed she half shook off the dream,
And now on the familiar ivory keys
Would ponderingly a faltering music play
As if recalling some unwritten theme,
Murmuring the while sweet words they scarce could catch,
Ranged in so quaint a sequence that they yearned
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