Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume II/My Dream

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For works with similar titles, see My Dream.
For other versions of this work, see My Dream (Coates).


THOUGH full of care
I tread the round
Of toil in which man's eager life is bound,
I faint not 'neath the load I bear;
For grievous though the burden sometimes be,
I dream of thee!

And when, at night,
I lie enwound
In silence that is sweeter than all sound,
The darkness, kindlier than light,
Shuts out the busy world awhile, and free,
I dream of thee!

Like to a breath
Of fragrance blown
From some shy blossom, hidden and alone,
Redeeming frost and wintry death,
So ever comes, like scent of bloom to me,
My dream of thee!

Like to a star
Amidst the clouds,
When angry tempest hurtles in the shrouds,
And darkling drifts the mariner afar,
So, out of storm and shadow, beams on me
My dream of thee!