DREAM

A night indeed: across a plain enormous,

which boundless fused with grey sky unallotted,

above it, viscous fog, unmoving, ponderous,

like leaden vapour overbearing squatted –

my gaze was searching, yet as though blind surely,

for it saw nothing on that plain deserted,

observing on itself, ears and mouth, dourly

a clammy fog, unyielding, unaverted.

The dream oppressed, but with no pain to tend,

for all my nerves that fog had deadened, rending

my senses dulled, within its sway consuming. –

Now murky day is to its noon ascending …

Now that has passed … and eventide is looming …

How many drear days did my dream portend?