Waking
SO fair a dream last night my heart had kissed,
I sought some token of it, but 'twould give
Nothing, save formless fancies fugitive,
That slipped from words' encirclement away—
As, when hell's shades 'gan quicken with the day,
His lost beloved fled the lutanist.
I sought some token of it, but 'twould give
Nothing, save formless fancies fugitive,
That slipped from words' encirclement away—
As, when hell's shades 'gan quicken with the day,
His lost beloved fled the lutanist.
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