The Dream-Follower

A poem by Thomas Hardy

A dream of mine flew over the mead
To the halls where my old Love reigns;
And it drew me on to follow its lead:
And I stood at her window-panes;

And I saw but a thing of flesh and bone
Speeding on to its cleft in the clay;
And my dream was scared, and expired on a moan,
And I whitely hastened away.

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'The Dream-Follower' by Thomas Hardy

comments powered by Disqus