SUSPENSE

I dream, and strange dim powers

        My shining sleep assist;

A sound as of coming showers

        Creeps towards me, loudly hist;

And lo! all my forgotten hours

        Lie round me like a mist.

The ghosts of my dead selves

        Weave round me a false mesh;

My undreamed dreams, pale elves,

        Are now part of my flesh;

And all l am my unselfing shelves

        On dreams, out of my reach.

I touch impalpable things;

        I am sunny with past days;

Remote sounds, like near wings,

        Flank my blind spirit's ways;

And from the other side of the big hill rings

        A bell that summons to praise.

But l am sick of dreaming,

        Weary of being the same

Over desert spaces of seeming,

        Unwilling player of a game

With life, far star but gleaming

        On dead earths without name.