Page:Renascenceotherp00milluoft.pdf/72

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THE DREAM

Love, if I weep it will not matter,
And if you laugh I shall not care;
Foolish am I to think about it,
But it is good to feel you there.

Love, in my sleep I dreamed of waking,-
White and awful the moonlight reached
Over the floor, and somewhere, somewhere
There was a shutter loose,-it screeched!

Swung in the wind,-and no wind blowing!
I was afraid, and turned to you,