Close on the edge of a midsummer dawn <br />In troubled dreams I went from land to land, <br />Each seven-colored like the rainbow's arc, <br />Regions where never fancy's foot had trod <br />Till then; yet all the strangeness seemed not strange, <br />At which I wondered, reasoning in my dream <br />With twofold sense, well knowing that I slept. <br />At last I came to this our cloud-hung earth, <br />And somewhere by the seashore was a grave, <br />A woman's grave, new-made, and heaped with flowers; <br />And near it stood an ancient holy man <br />That fain would comfort me, who sorrowed not <br />For this unknown dead woman at my feet. <br />But I, because his sacred office held <br />My reverence, listened; and 'twas thus he spake:-- <br />'When next thou comest thou shalt find her still <br />In all the rare perfection that she was. <br />Thou shalt have gentle greeting of thy love! <br />Her eyelids will have turned to violets, <br />Her bosom to white lilies, and her breath <br />To roses. What is lovely never dies, <br />But passes into other loveliness, <br />Star-dust, or sea-foam, flower, or winged air. <br />If this befalls our poor unworthy flesh, <br />Think thee what destiny awaits the soul! <br />What glorious vesture it shall wear at last!' <br />While yet he spoke, seashore and grave and priest <br />Vanished, and faintly from a neighboring spire <br />Fell five slow solemn strokes upon my ear. <br />Then I awoke with a keen pain at heart, <br />A sense of swift unutterable loss, <br />And through the darkness reached my hand to touch <br />Her cheek, soft-pillowed on one restful palm-- <br />To be quite sure!<br /><br />Thomas Bailey Aldrich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-shadow-of-the-night/
