Explore "Only in Dreams" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
How strange are dreams. Last night I dreamed about you. / All that old bitterness of loss and pain, / The desolation of my lot without you, / The keen regret, all, all came back again.
Again I faced that terrible old sorrow; / Too numb to weep, too cowardly to pray. / Again the blankness of a dread to-morrow / Filled me with sickly terror and dismay.
I woke in tears; but lo! a moment after, / When every vestige of my dream was fled, / I broke the silence of my room with laughter, / To think sleep had revived a thing so dead.
Thank God, that only in the realms of fancy / Can that old sorrow wake again to strife. / No fate is strong enough -- no necromancy -- / To make it stir one pulse of my calm life.
My heart is light, my lot is blest without you, / Our early sorrows are not what they seem, / Now in my slumber, if I dream about you / I wake to laugh at such an idle dream.