Mirage
by: Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830 - 1894)
The hope I dreamed of was a dream,
Was but a dream; and now I wake,
Exceeding comfortless, and worn, and old,
For a dream's sake.
I hang my harp upon a tree,
A weeping willow in a lake;
I hang my silent harp there, wrung and snapped
For a dream's sake.
Lie still, lie still, my breaking heart;
My silent heart, lie still and break:
Life, and the world, and mine own self, are changed
For a dream's sake.
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Remember
Birthday, A
Echo
May
Promises Like Pie-Crust
First Day, The
Song
Gone For Ever
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