IX

Two faces haunt the stillnesses of sleep. The first is of a woman I have known Past years, in many lives, as on a throne Within my heart, for whom I daily keep Fast and high vigil while deep calls to deep; You also stir me, like wind-voices blown Through woodland hollows where I walk alone When twilight and its shadows slowly creep;

And I am torn 'twixt love of you and her— My dear Dream-Lady of some long ago— Till past and present, pausing to confer, Determine what I hardly dare to know: The faces I have loved and love are one— How you have followed me from sun to sun!