How Dear To Me The Hour... Poem by Rey Sanidad

How dear to me the hour when daylight dies,
And sunbeams melt along the silent sea,
For then sweet dreams of other days arise,
And memory breathes her vesper sigh to you.
Could we but cast away its conscious stress,
Simple of heart, becoming even as you.

And, as I watch the line of light, that plays
Along the smooth wave toward the burning west,
I long to tread that golden path of rays,
And think it would lead to some bright isle of rest.
And saw myself made clear as in a glass,
How that my soul was for the most part dead.

These are the emblems of pure pleasures flown,
I scarcely can think of pleasure without these.
Even to dream of them is to disown
The cold forlorn mid-summer reveries,
Lulled with the perfume of old hopes new-blown,
No longer dreams, but dear realities.