I Have Been Sifting Through a Shadow

I have been sifting through a Shadow, And only found it a shadow indeed-- The black tresses to outline its features, Like waking at new morning's chime. I greeted it as though my dark and its Would be a shade indistinct, And find in each a same-song toil That needed no words for which to speak. It cast upon my unaccustomed eyes, And in earnest I rubbed to be sure The light was not playing tricks on me, But no light I saw but below my door. The Shadow bemused itself with shadows, As a bad mother to her youth, And so much I thought it tender true. True! The very word is like a mist That hungrily clings to solid ground, Though it is dark and none can I see. The light beneath my door is waning, So I must love the Shadow all the more, But the night is born to bewitch the sense; Love is an hour that has a minute's way Where awake or dreaming, I cannot know, If Shadows have form in the light of day.