Page:A lover's tale (Tennyson, 1879).djvu/66

62 Awoke me not, but were a part of sleep, And voices in the distance calling to me And in my vision bidding me dream on, Like sounds without the twilight realm of dreams, Which wander round the bases of the hills, And murmur at the low-dropt eaves of sleep, Half-entering the portals. Oftentimes The vision had fair prelude, in the end Opening on darkness, stately vestibules To caves and shows of Death: whether the mind, With some revenge—even to itself unknown,— Made strange division of its suffering With her, whom to have suffering view'd had been Extremest pain; or that the clear-eyed Spirit, Being blunted in the Present, grew at length Prophetical and prescient of whate'er The Future had in store: or that which most Enchains belief, the sorrow of my spirit