The Day-dream. From an Emigrant to his Absent Wife

Samuel Taylor Coleridge - Non-Music, Poetry (Literature)
The Day-dream. From an Emigrant to his Absent Wife
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If thou wert here, these tears were tears of light!  But from as sweet a vision did I start As ever made these eyes grow idly bright!  And though I weep, yet still around my heart A sweet and playful tenderness doth linger, Touching my heart as with an infant's finger. My mouth half open, like a witless man,  I saw our couch, I saw our quiet room, Its shadows heaving by the fire-light gloom;  And o'er my lips a subtle feeling ran, All o'er my lips a soft and breeze-like feeling— I know not what—but had the same been stealing Upon a sleeping mother's lips, I guess  It would have made the loving mother dream That she was softly bending down to kiss  Her babe, that something more than babe did seem, A floating presence of its darling father, And yet its own dear baby self far rather! Across my chest there lay a weight, so warm!  As if some bird had taken shelter there; And lo! I seemed to see a woman's form—  Thine, Sara, thine? O joy, if thine it were! I gazed with stifled breath, and feared to stir it, No deeper trance e'er wrapt a yearning spirit! And now, when I seemed sure thy face to see,  Thy own dear self in our own quiet home; There came an elfish laugh, and wakened me:  'Twas Frederic, who behind my chair had clomb, And with his bright eyes at my face was peeping. I blessed him, tried to laugh, and fell a-weeping!
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- Samuel Taylor Coleridge