Dreams

Tonight autumn’s waning wind gently blows
The soft whisper of a melting season,
Whose defeated breath seems to me to know
Each thought that dreams of thee in sweet treason.
Tonight thou art amidst the firmament,
Thine eyes of blazing blue gaze out to me,
But never will they find me, I lament,
Although my wingèd thoughts shall fly to thee.
So long for me may search in vain thine eyes,
My messengers shall plant on each a kiss
So that fair dreams and visions may arise
From the thoughts sent when it is thee I miss.
So if ever thou hast a want of me
Then rest thine eyes, and what dreams they may see!

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This entry was posted in Sonnets.

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