C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

The Dream-Image

WHERE art thou, image guarding me,

There in the garden dreaming,

That bound my hair with rosemary,

Which round my couch was teeming?

Where art thou, image guarding me,

And in my spirit peering,

While my warm cheek all tenderly

Thou prest with touch endearing?

I seek for thee, with sorrow moved,

By linden-shaded river,

Or in the town, idea beloved,

And find thee nowhere, never.

I wander ’neath the sun’s sharp heat,

If raining or if snowing,

And look into each face I meet

Along my pathway going.

Thus am I doomed still to and fro

With sighs and tears to wander,

And Sundays at the church doors view

The maidens here and yonder.

Toward every window do I look,

Where but a veil doth hover,

And in no house or street or nook

Can I my love discover.

Come back, sweet image of the night,

With thy angelic bearing,

Clad in the shepherd garments light

Which marked thy first appearing;

And with thee bring the swan-white hand

Which stole my heart completely,

The purple-scarlet bosom-band,

The nosegay scented sweetly;

The pair of great and glad blue eyes,

From whence looked out an angel;

The forehead, in such kindly guise,

Amenity’s evangel;

The mouth, love’s paradise abode;

The dimples laughing clearest,

Where Heaven’s bright portal open stood,—

Bring all with thee, my dearest!