Page:The ascent of man by Blind, Mathilde.djvu/183



will you haunt me unawares,
 * And walk into my sleep,

Pacing its shadowy thoroughfares, Where long-dried perfume scents the airs,
 * While ghosts of sorrow creep,

Where on Hope's ruined altar-stairs,
 * With ineffectual beams,

The Moon of Memory coldly glares
 * Upon the land of dreams?

My yearning eyes were fain to look
 * Upon your hidden face;

Their love, alas! you could not brook, But in your own you mutely took
 * My hand, and for a space