Page:Collected poems vol 1 de la mare.djvu/155

 While the dew of evening drips,
 * Coldly and silently.

Would that I could steal in! —
 * Into each secret room;

Would that my sleep-bright eyes could win
 * To the inner gloom;

Gaze from its high windows,
 * Far down its mouldering walls,

Where amber-clear still Lethe flows,
 * And foaming falls.

But ever as I gaze,
 * From slumber soft doth come

Some touch my stagnant sense to raise
 * To its old earthly home;

Fades then that sky serene;
 * And peak of ageless snow;

Fades to a paling dawn-lit green,
 * My dark château.