Page:Poems Terry, 1861.djvu/183

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Doubt.

179

A dim, sweet vision.
Flies fast before,
Its lingering shadow
Floats over me;—
I know thy shade, Love,
Do I know thee?

"Rest in thy dreaming,
Child divine!
What grape-bloom knoweth
Its fiery wine?
Only the sleeper
No sun can see;
He that doubteth
Knows not me."