METHOUGHT I saw thee yesternight <br />Sit by me in the olden guise, <br />The white robes and the pain foregone, <br />Weaving instead of amaranth crown <br />A web of mortal dyes. <br /> <br />I cried, 'Where hast thou been so long?' <br />(The mild eyes turned and mutely smiled <br />'Why dwellest thou in far-off lands? <br />What is that web within thy hands?' <br />--'I work for thee, my child.' <br /> <br />I clasped thee in my arms and wept; <br />I kissed thee oft with passion wild: <br />I poured fond questions, tender blame; <br />Still thy sole answer was the same,-- <br />'I work for thee, my child.' <br /> <br />'Come and walk with me as of old.' <br />Then camest thou, silent as before; <br />We passed along that churchyard way <br />We used to tread each Sabbath day, <br />Till one trod earth no more. <br /> <br />I felt thy hand upon my arm, <br />Beside me thy meek face I saw, <br />Yet through the sweet familiar grace <br />A something spiritual could trace <br />That left a nameless awe. <br /> <br />Trembling I said, 'Long years have passed <br />Since thou wert from my side beguiled; <br />Now thou'rt returned and all shall be <br />As was before.'--Half-pensively <br />Thou answered'st--'Nay, my child.' <br /> <br />I pleaded sore: 'Hadst thou forgot <br />The love wherewith we loved of old,-- <br />The long sweet days of converse blest, <br />The nights of slumber on thy breast,-- <br />Wert thou to me grown cold?' <br /> <br />There beamed on me those eyes of heaven <br />That wept no more, but ever smiled; <br />'Love only is love in that Home <br />Where I abide--where, till thou come, <br />I work for thee, my child.' <br /> <br />If from my sight thou passedst then, <br />Or if my sobs the dream exiled, <br />I know not: but in memory clear <br />I seem these strange words still to hear, <br />'I work for thee, my child.'<br /><br />Dinah Maria Mulock Craik<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/only-a-dream-12/
