O GOD, my dream ! I dreamed that you were dead ; Your mother hung above the couch and wept Whereon you lay all white, and garlanded With blooms of waxen whiteness. I had crept Up to your chamber-door, which stood ajar, And in the doorway watched you from afar, Nor dared advance to kiss your lips and brow. I had no part nor lot in you, as now ; Death had not broken between us the old bar ; Nor torn from out my heart the old, cold sense Of your misprision and my impotence. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOHENGRIN; PROEM by EMMA LAZARUS VICTORY IN DEFEAT by EDWIN MARKHAM FALSE FRIENDS-LIKE by WILLIAM BARNES THE LAWYER'S WAYS by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE IDEA OF BALANCE IS TO BE FOUND IN HERONS AND LOONS by JAMES HARRISON |