Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/183

150 'Fair moon and stars no longer hide,' My foolish hope renounced, I cry; And by degrees the waves subside, Once more the picture in the tide Is mirrored—oh so gloriously!

Shall I again attempt, I think, To seize the mirage as before? Ah no! But leaning on the brink, The calm that late I drank shall drink, And dream, and dream for evermore.