Page:Poems, Volume 1, Coates, 1916.djvu/100



LOOKED on beauteous forms, as I lay dreaming,

But on no form as beautiful as thine,

Who here, amid the moonbeams white and holy,

Standest in silence by this bed of mine.

I looked on faces fair, as I lay sleeping,

But on no face that seemed as nobly sweet

As that which in the pallid light above me

My wondering, half-awakened sense doth greet.

Who and what art thou? Have I kept thee waiting?

My sleep was as a river deep and calm;

Bring'st thou perchance some word of import for me?

Hast thou, for broken hearts, like mine, some balm?

Who and what art thou? In my tranquil vision

I gazed through rifted clouds on azure skies,—

I seemed to gaze beyond them,—but naught moved me

Like the deep pity in thy brooding eyes.