The Poetry Corner

The Dead Dream

By Madison Julius Cawein

Between the darkness and the day As, lost in doubt, I went my way, I met a shape, as faint as fair, With star-like blossoms in its hair: Its body, which the moon shone through, Was partly cloud and partly dew: Its eyes were bright as if with tears, And held the look of long-gone years; Its mouth was piteous, sweet yet dread, As if with kisses of the dead: And in its hand it bore a flower, In memory of some haunted hour. I knew it for the Dream I'd had In days when life was young and glad. Why had it come with love and woe Out of the happy Long-Ago? Upon my brow I felt its breath, Heard ancient. words of faith and death, Sweet with the immortality Of many a fragrant memory: And to my heart again I took Its joy and sorrow in a look, And kissed its eyes and held it fast, And bore it home from out the past My Dream of Beauty and of Truth, I dreamed had perished with my Youth.