Dream Anguish

My thought of thee is tortured in my sleep— Sometimes thou art near beside me, but a cloud Doth grudge me thy pale face, and rise to creep Slowly about thee, to lap thee in a shroud; And I, as standing by my dead, to weep Desirous, cannot weep, nor cry aloud. Or we must face the clamouring of a crowd Hissing our shame; and I who ought to keep Thine honour safe and my betrayed heart proud, Knowing thee true, must watch a chill doubt leap The tired faith of thee, and thy head bow'd, Nor budge while the gross world holdeth thee cheap! Or there are frost-bound meetings, and reproach At parting, furtive snatches full of fear; Love grown a pain; we bleed to kiss, and kiss Because we bleed for love; the time doth broach Shame, and shame teareth at us till we tear Our hearts to shreds—yet wilder love for this!