Day-Dreams

Gazing through her chamber window
Sits my soul’s dear soul:
Looking northward, looking southward,
Looking to the goal,
Looking back without control.

I have strewn thy path, beloved,
With plumed meadowsweet,
Iris and pale perfumed lilies,
Roses most complete:
Wherefore pause on listless feet?

But she sits and never answers,
Gazing, gazing still
On swift fountain, shadowed valley,
Cedared sunlit hill:
Who can guess or read her will?

Who can guess or read the spirit
Shrined within her eyes,
Part a longing, part a languor,
Part a mere surprise,
While slow mists do rise and rise?

Is it love she looks and longs for,
Is it rest or peace,
Is it slumber self-forgetful
In its utter ease,
Is it one or all of these?

So she sits and doth not answer
With her dreaming eyes,
With her languid look delicious
Almost paradise,
Less than happy, over-wise.

Answer me, O self-forgetful—
Or of what beside?—
Is it day-dream of a maiden,
Vision of a bride,
Is it knowledge, love, or pride?

Cold she sits through all my kindling,
Deaf to all I pray:
I have wasted might and wisdom,
Wasted night and day:
Deaf she dreams to all I say.

Now if I could guess her secret,
Were it worth the guess?—
Time is lessening, hope is lessening,
Love grows less and less:
What care I for no or yes?

I will give her stately burial,
Though, when she lies dead:
For dear memory of the past time,
Of her royal head,
Of the much I strove and said.

I will give her stately burial,
Stately willow-branches bent:
Have her carved in alabaster,
As she dreamed and leant
While I wondered what she meant.