The breaths of kissing night and day <br />Were mingled in the eastern Heaven, <br />Throbbing with unheard melody, <br />Shook Lyra all its star-cloud seven. <br />When dusk shrank cold, and light trod shy, <br />And dawn's grey eyes were troubled grey; <br />And souls went palely up to the sky, <br />And mine to Lucidè, <br />There was no change in her sweet eyes <br />Since last I saw those sweet eyes shine; <br />There was no change in her deep heart <br />Since last that deep heart knocked at mine. <br />Her eyes were clear, her eyes were Hope's, <br />Wherein did ever come and go; <br />The sparkle of the fountain drops <br />From her sweet soul below. <br />The chambers in the house of dream <br />Are fed with so divine an air, <br />That Time's hoar wings grow young therein, <br />And they who walk there are most fair. <br />I joyed for me, I joyed for her, <br />Who with the Past meet girt about: <br />Where her last kiss still warms the air, <br />Nor can her eyes go out.<br /><br />Francis Thompson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dream-tryst/
