Bereft, She Thinks She Dreams
I dream that the dearest I ever knewHas died and been entombed.I am sure it’s a dream that cannot be true,But I am so overgloomedBy its persistence, that I would gladlyHave quick death take me,Rather than longer think thus sadly;So wake me, wake me!
It has lasted days, but minute and hourI expect to get arousedAnd find him as usual in the bowerWhere we so happily housed.Yet stays this nightmare too appalling,And like a web shakes me,And piteously I keep on calling,And no one wakes me!
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