The Dream

 Love, if I weep it will not matter,
 And if you laugh I shall not care;
Foolish am I to think about it,
 But it is good to feel you there.


Love, in my sleep I dreamed of waking,—
 White and awful the moonlight reached
Over the floor, and somewhere, somewhere,
 There was a shutter loose,—it screeched!

Swung in the wind,—and no wind blowing!—
 I was afraid, and turned to you,
Put out my hand to you for comfort,—
 And you were gone! Cold, cold as dew,

Under my hand the moonlight lay!
 Love, if you laugh I shall not care,
But if I weep it will not matter,—
 Ah, it is good to feel you there!

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