O wistful eyes that haunt the gloom of sleep, <br />Are you my own, remembered from the night <br />I sat before my glass in dumb affright <br />And saw my cowering soul afraid to weep? <br />Perhaps you are his, foreshadowed, when I creep <br />Behind him and confess the hopeless blight <br />That wilts the bloom of our supreme delight <br />The breath of horror from the unknown deep. <br />Eyes that have never seen a mother's face, <br />Have you no mercy that you stare and stare, <br />Although I never felt the hope I slew? <br />Wide eyes, but when I kneel to God for grace, <br />Your steadfast pity deepens my despair; <br />The darkness I desire is full of you.<br /><br />John Le Gay Brereton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/unborn-9/
