The Lost Love

WHEN I woke up this morning
I found I had dreamed of you;
You looked at me just as you used to
(Just as you always do
In these dreams I need so often)
And you said to me dryly, ‘Your face
Is older than when I knew you.’
I tried and could not say, ‘Yes.’
‘Your eyes are red with weeping,’
You murmured tranquilly.
But when I could still say nothing
You stretched your hand trembling to me
And whispered, ‘O my poor love—’
And I felt a pang of such joy
Or pain that I cried, ‘I am dreaming.’
I awoke and it was day.
In my dream last night, I remember,
Your face was sick and old;
Your voice shook; when I touched you
My hand was cold.