CRUEL? I think there never was a cheating More cruel, thro' all the weary days than this ! This is no dream, my heart kept on repeating, But sober certainty of waking bliss. Dreams? O, I know their faces -- goodly seeming, Vaporous, whirled on many-coloured wings ; I have had dreams before, this is no dreaming, But daylight gladness that the daylight brings. What ails my love ; what ails her ? She is paling ; Faint grows her face, and slowly seems to fade ! I cannot clasp her -- stretch out unavailing My arms across the silence and the shade. |