Thomas MacDonagh (Томас Макдона)
A Dream of Age
I dreamt last night that I was very old, And very lonesome, very sad of heart; And, shunning men, dwelt in a place apart Where none my barren sorrow might behold; There brooded grim beside my hearth-stone cold Cold days of shadow, dying, till with flame Of happy memory once more you came With laughing eyes and hair of burning gold. -- O eyes of sudden joy! O storm-blown hair! O pale face of my love! why do you rise Amid the haunting spectres of despair To trouble their gaunt vigil with my cries?-- In tears I woke and knew the dream was true: My youth was lost, and lost the love of you.
Thomas MacDonagh’s other poems:
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