THE DREAM.
53
And while she gazed on it, she could see
That sapling spring up to a noble tree.
Again she woke, and again she slept,
But the same dream still on her eyelids kept.
The morning came at last, but its light
Seem'd not to her as her mornings bright.
A sadness hung on her lip and brow,
She could not shake off, she shamed to avow.
While the hounds that chase the stag and roe
Were gathering in the court below,
She walk'd with her lord, and mark'd that on him
A somewhat of secret shadow lay dim;
And sought she the cause with that sweet art,
Which is the science of woman's fond heart,
That may not bear the loved one to brood
O'er aught of sorrow in solitude;
E 3
