The poem
I WOKE to find my pillow wet With the tears for deeds deep hid in sleep. I knew no sorrow here, but yet The tears fell softly through the deep.
Your eyes, your other eyes of dream, Looked at me through the veil of blank; I saw their joyous, starlit gleam Like one who watches rank on rank.
His victor airy legions wind And pass before his awful throne— Was there thy loving heart unkind, Was I thy captive all o’erthrown?