Sweet are white dreams i' the dusk, yet sweeter far When the sea-music fills those haunting dreams: When light survives alone in each white star And in the far white shine of a myriad gleams: When from white flowers, that through the violet gloom Shine faintly phosphorescent, strange breaths steal And in the lamp-lit silence of the room The longing, yearning soul makes mute appeal: When nought is heard, and yet the tired hands stray To meet white dream-like hands soft floating by: When the disanchor'd mind sails far away 'Mid the suspense of an imagined sigh -- 'Tis thee, 'tis thee, O dear white soul, 'tis thee, White Joy, white Peace, white Balm that healeth me! |