342
A Mood
. . . I wonder shall I meet you in the night,
In that dear house of Dreams, Sleep's dwelling-place?
O Prince! O Lord of life! O heart's delight!
O Lover! never this side of the stars
Seen face to face! . . .
In vain my winged songs beat against the bars
Of bitter life; then, falling mute and tired,
Like leaves that the sharp hoar frost sheds and scars,
Lie dead beneath the heaven they desired.
In that dear house of Dreams, Sleep's dwelling-place?
O Prince! O Lord of life! O heart's delight!
O Lover! never this side of the stars
Seen face to face! . . .
In vain my winged songs beat against the bars
Of bitter life; then, falling mute and tired,
Like leaves that the sharp hoar frost sheds and scars,
Lie dead beneath the heaven they desired.
