Lo! In A Dream Love Came To Me
LO! in a dream Love came to me and cried:
“The summer dawn creeps over land and sea;
The golden fields are ripe for harvest-tide,
And the grape-gatherers climb the mountain-side;
The harvest joy is come; I wait for thee.
Arise, come down, and follow, follow me.”
And I arose, went down, and followed him.
The reaper’s song went ringing through the air;
Below, the morning mists grew pale and dim,
And on the mountain ridge the sun’s bright rim
Rose swiftly, and the glorious dawn was there.
I followed, followed Love, I knew not where.
Through orange groves and orchard ways we went;
The cool fresh dew lay deep on grass and tree,
Above our heads the laden boughs were bent
With weight of ripening fruit; the faint sweet scent
Of fragrant myrtles drifted up to me:
Blindly, O Love, blindly I followed thee!
O Love, the morning shadows passed away
From off the broad fair fields of waving wheat;
I followed thee, till in the full noonday
The weary women in the vineyards lay;
The tall field flowers drooped fading in the heat:
I followed thee with bruised and bleeding feet.
Upon the long white road the fierce sun shone,
And on the distant town and wide waste plain,
O Love, I blindly, blindly followed on,
Nor knew how sharp the way my feet had gone;
Nor knew I aught of shame or loss or pain,
Nor knew I all my labour was in vain.
The sun sank down in silence o’er the land,
The heavy shadows gathered deep and black;
Across the lonely waste of reeds and sand
I followed Love: I could not touch his hand,
Nor see his hidden face, nor turn me back,
Nor find again the far-off mountain-track.
Blindly, O Love! blindly I followed thee:
The summer night lay on the silent plain,
And on the sleeping city and the sea;
The sound of rippling waves came up to me.
O Love! the dawn drew near; far off again
The gray light gathered where the night had lain.
On through the quiet street Love passed, and cried:
“The summer dawn creeps over land and sea;
Sweet is the summer and the harvest-tide;
Awake, arise, Love waits for thee, his Bride.”
And she arose and followed, followed thee,
O traitor Love! who hast forsaken me.
Fraser’s Magazine.