Often I have this strange and penetrating dream Of an unknown woman I love and who loves me, And each time she is neither quite the same Nor quite another, but she loves and understands. For she does understand, and my heart, lucid Alas, only for her, is a problem no longer, But only for her, and the fever of my pale brow Only by her can be cooled, as she weeps. Is she dark, fair, or red-haired? I know not. Her name? I remember it is sweet and singing Like those of loved ones whom Life has banished. Her gaze is like the gaze of statues, And her voice, distant, calm, and low, Has the inflection of dear voices that are stilled. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FIDDLING WOOD by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET A POST-IMPRESSIONIST SUSURRATION FOR THE FIRST OF NOVEMBER by HAYDEN CARRUTH VENUS IN A GARDEN by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE TOURNAMENT by SIDNEY LANIER DISMAL MOMENT PASSING by CLARENCE MAJOR HOW THE GREAT GUEST CAME by EDWIN MARKHAM |