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Poem by William Watson

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Thy voice from inmost dreamland calls;
  The wastes of sleep thou makest fair;
Bright o'er the ridge of darkness falls
  The cataract of thy hair.

The morn renews its golden birth:
  Thou with the vanquished night dost fade;
And leav'st the ponderable earth
  Less real than thy shade.

William Watson

William Watson's other poems:
  1. A Child's Hair
  2. On Exaggerated Deference to Foreign Literary Opinion
  3. On Landor's Hellenics
  4. Mensis Lacrimarum
  5. To

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