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Thomas Hardy - Bereft, She Thinks She Dreams
Work rating: Low

I dream that the dearest I ever knew
  Has died and been entombed.
I am sure it`s a dream that cannot be true,
  But I am so overgloomed
By its persistence, that I would gladly
  Have quick death take me,
Rather than longer think thus sadly;
    So wake me, wake me!


It has lasted days, but minute and hour
  I expect to get aroused
And find him as usual in the bower
  Where we so happily housed.
Yet stays this nightmare too appalling,
  And like a web shakes me,
And piteously I keep on calling,
    And no one wakes me!
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