Page:Poems Terry, 1861.djvu/183

A dim, sweet vision.
 Flies fast before,
Its lingering shadow
 Floats over me;—
I know thy shade, Love,
 Do I know thee?

"Rest in thy dreaming,
 Child divine!
What grape-bloom knoweth
 Its fiery wine?
Only the sleeper
 No sun can see;
He that doubteth
 Knows not me."