First World War Poetry Digital Archive

On A Dream


I leaned, blank-eyed, in lonely thoughtless thought, Upon the night, athwart my threshold stone; When there came One with hurried, frightened moan, With tear-drained eyes, wild hair, and hands distraught, Who fell about my knees, and swift besought Help and my love, for she was all alone For love of me; and from her world out-thrown. I knew that lovely head; her hands I caught;

For hours I felt her lips warm on my cheek, As through the vast void of the dark we fled. For precious hours her limbs in mine were curled, Until with utter joy I tried to speak: And lo! I raved with fever on my bed, And melancholy dawn bestirred the world.

To view other similar items in the archive click on the hyper-linked words below.