Irene's Dream
V.—THE ROSE
Irene craved for Florestan's return—
The sweet surprise of his companionship
Kept fresh its strangeness thro' the quiet hours.
And now she listened for a newer voice
As once she listened for the nightingale.
The light vicissitudes of life in dreams,
The round of flowery change, incomplete loves
Of half-souled creatures, now no more sufficed.
She longed to share her joy in them with one
Who loved them too. She felt the human charm.
A world of things to ask and say sprang up
Ever within her—and at last he came.
With shining looks she met him in the hall.
The heart-beat of a startling joy had called
A moment's rose upon her pearl bright cheek.
Then once more the soft cloud came o'er her face.
The sweet surprise of his companionship
Kept fresh its strangeness thro' the quiet hours.
And now she listened for a newer voice
As once she listened for the nightingale.
The light vicissitudes of life in dreams,
The round of flowery change, incomplete loves
Of half-souled creatures, now no more sufficed.
She longed to share her joy in them with one
Who loved them too. She felt the human charm.
A world of things to ask and say sprang up
Ever within her—and at last he came.
With shining looks she met him in the hall.
The heart-beat of a startling joy had called
A moment's rose upon her pearl bright cheek.
Then once more the soft cloud came o'er her face.
*****
Here the account of the Dream breaks off; and with it apparently the author's intention as to the final issue of the story is changed. The writer, resuming the subject after a long pause, left behind her the ideal Irene, the shadowy resemblance of her long-lost sister and herself, and determined to make the character the vehicle
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