Nay,
but a dream I had
Of a world mad.
Not simply happy
mad like me,
...
Who am mad like
an empty scene
Of water and
willow tree,
Where the wind
hath been;
...
But that foul
Satan-mad,
Who rots in
his own head,
And counts the
dead,
Not honest one-and
two-
...
But for the
ghosts they were,
Brave, faithful,
true,
When, head in
air,
In Earth's clear
green and blue
Heaven they
did share
...
Come, Love,
my lad
Nodding that
drowsy head,
'Tis time thy
prayers were said.