Out of the littleness that wraps my days,

The oppressive mist of gray and common things,

Sometimes my dream on its audacious wings,

Dripping with golden fire, above the haze,

Flashes and veers against the sudden blaze

Of sunlight. There no other wings may gleam

But only yours, companioning my dream

In its strange flight up new and radiant ways.

And once, I thought, in a far solitude,

The black waves moaned and broke unutterably

On a stern cliff where hand in hand we stood.

There were none near us when the dark had gone,—

Only the clean wind of a sailless sea,

And you and I alone in the great dawn.