I dreamed. And lo, upon a shadowy mound Love stood alone beneath a juniper, And all the light of heaven brake from her, Golden, and shook about her like a sound. Then, drawing nearer, by her side I found A sister-shape that ever might not stir From Love's left hand. Death-white her features were; Her lips were straight and scarlet, like a wound. I have seen a tree, against the Western light Nebulous with golden glory: and again, Graven against the gloaming, ebony-plain. Even so all delicate wonders, overbright Upon the face of Love for mortal sight, Were shadow-graven on the face of Pain. |