Thou art to me like one, who in a dream <br />Of pleasant fancies is borne sleeping by <br />The place where a great treasure hid doth lie: <br />Anon thou wilt awake, and thou'lt exclaim— <br />'How was it that along this path I came, <br />And left so great a treasure on my way? <br />I will make haste to seek it:' shalt thou say— <br />And then, thou shalt re-measure thoughtfully <br />The steps thou didst fly over in thy sleep; <br />But vainly shalt thou wander there, and weep, <br />For while thou didst pass dreaming, careless, on, <br />Another followed, and with digging deep, <br />And diligent seeking, did the harvest reap <br />That was held to thy hand—and thou wouldst none.<br /><br />Frances Anne Kemble<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-87/
