THE DREAM-FOLLOWER

By Thomas Hardy

A dream of mine flew over the mead

To the halls where my old Love reigns;

And it drew me on to follow its lead:

And I stood at her window-panes;

And I saw but a thing of flesh and bone

Speeding on to its cleft in the clay;

And my dream was scared, and expired on a moan,

And I whitely hastened away.