To a Dreamer
By H. P. Lovecraft
(1920)
I scan they features, calm and white
Beneath the single taper's light;
Thy dark-fringed lids, behind whose screen
Are eyes that view not earth's demesne.
And as I look, I fain would know
The paths whereon they dream-steps go;
The spectral realms that thou canst see
With eyes veil'd from the world and me.
For I have likewise gazed in sleep
On things my mem'ry scarce can keep,
And from half-knowing long to spy
Again the scenes before thine eye.
I, too, have known the peaks of Thok;
The vales of Pnath, where dream-shapes flock;
The vaults of Zin—and well I trow
Why thou demand'st that taper's glow.
But what is this that subtly slips
Over thy face and bearded lips?
What fear distracts thy mind and heart,
That drops must from thy forehead start?
Old visions wake—thine op'ning eyes
Gleam black with clouds of other skies,
And as from demoniac sight
I flee into the haunted night.
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