William Watson

(1858-1935 / England)

Thy Voice From Inmost Dreamland Calls - Poem by William Watson

Thy voice from inmost dreamland calls;
The wastes of sleep thou makest fair;
Bright o'er the ridge of darkness falls
The cataract of thy hair.

The morn renews its golden birth:
Thou with the vanquished night dost fade;
And leav'st the ponderable earth
Less real than thy shade.

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, April 10, 2010

Poem Edited: Saturday, May 7, 2011

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