Dream-Ghosts

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Title:     Dream-Ghosts
Author: Rachel Annand Taylor [More Titles by Taylor]

White house of night, too much the ghosts come through
Your crazy doors, to vex and startle me,
Touching with curious fingers cold as dew
Kissing with unloved kisses fierily
That dwell, slow fever, through my veins all day,
And fill my senses as the dead their graves.
They are builded in my castles and bridges? Yea,
Not therefore must my dreams become their slaves.
If once we passed some kindness, must they still
Sway me with weird returns and dim disgust?--
Though even in sleep the absolute bright Will
Would exorcise them, saying, "These are but dust,"
They show sad symbols, that, when I awaken,
I never can deny I have partaken.

[The end]
Rachel Annand Taylor's poem: Dream-Ghosts

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