Bereft, She Thinks She Dreams

________________________________________________
Title:     Bereft, She Thinks She Dreams
Author: Thomas Hardy [More Titles by Hardy]

I dream that the dearest I ever knew
Has died and been entombed.
I am sure it's a dream that cannot be true,
But I am so overgloomed
By its persistence, that I would gladly
Have quick death take me,
Rather than longer think thus sadly;
So wake me, wake me!

It has lasted days, but minute and hour
I expect to get aroused
And find him as usual in the bower
Where 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!

[The end]
Thomas Hardy's poem: Bereft, She Thinks She Dreams

________________________________________________



GO TO TOP OF SCREEN