Page:The Hundred Best Poems (lyrical) in the English language - second series.djvu/134

 Of folded sleep.The captain of my dreams Ruled in the eastern sky.

Morn broaden'd on the borders of the dark, Ere I saw her, who clasp'd in her last trance Her murder'd father's head, or Joan of Arc, A light of ancient France;

Or her who knew that Love can vanquish Death, Who kneeling, with one arm about her king, Drew forth the poison with her balmy breath, Sweet as new buds in Spring.

No memory labours longer from the deep Gold-mines of thought to lift the hidden ore That glimpses, moving up, than I from sleep To gather and tell o'er

Each little sound and sight.With what dull pain Compass'd, how eagerly I sought to strike Into that wondrous track of dreams again! But no two dreams are like.

As when a soul laments, which hath been blest, Desiring what is mingled with past years, In yearnings that can never be exprest By signs or groans or tears;

Because all words, tho' cull'd with choicest art, Failing to give the bitter of the sweet, Wither beneath the palate, and the heart Faints, faded by its heat. 112