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1867–1935

THE DREAM

George William Russell

I woke to find my pillow wet With tears for deeds deep hid in sleep. I knew no sorrow here, but yet The tears fell softly through the deep.

Your eyes, your other eyes of dream, Looked at me through the veil of blank; I saw their joyous, starlit gleam Like one who watches rank on rank.

His victor airy legions wind And pass before his awful throne — Was there thy loving heart unkind, Was I thy captive all o'erthrown?

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THE DREAM · George William Russell · Poetry Cove