REVERIE

I dreamed. I know no longer how

Or why that dream occurred.

I dreamed, and in my ear there came

An unexpected word:

A voice that whispered, murmured on,

Insistent to be heard.

I slept, for how else but in sleep

Could I that love have known?

I slept, for only sleep-borne could

That tenderness be shown;

A joy so rarefied must grace

The peaks of sleep alone.

I wept. The tears of passion fell

Unwonted on my cheek.

I wept and it was right to see

Virility made weak,

For tears give voice where otherwise

To spoil would be to speak.

I moaned. How could this pleasure-pain

Insensate I inflame?

I moaned to feel fulfilment’s hand

So warm within my frame.

And when it passed I knew that it

Had cleansed away my shame.

And yet it was not dreams alone

That caused this love to start.

And yet it was not sleep that brought

Completion to my heart;

For you dreamed there beside me and

Your magic did impart.

And so I did not weep in vain

To shed my tears for thee.

And so I did not moan without

The blessed memory

Of your own tears and your desire

To stay and comfort me.

I dreamed of riches bounteous

And found them there to take.

I slept with placid restfulness

And gathered in its wake

A bounty rich beyond all price.

I slept, yet was awake.

Switzerland, 1962