Realities

When I stand listening in my heart at night,

I hear them leaping through the loneliness

Ringing their colored bells, and less and less

I grieve as they come flashing into sight.

The lover Dreams run first, boy-like and bright,

Then lusty Ghosts and ruddy Fairies press

And crowd to kiss my hair or touch my dress,

Substantial as the stars, as real as light.

My heart grows dark with the returning day,

And flames no more, but flickers and grows faint.

Faces fade by me in a ghostly stream,

Voices of people are a faroff plaint.

I move uncertainly, and grope my way

Among them, like a shadow or a dream.

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