The Dream by George William Russell
I WOKE to find my pillow wet
With the 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?