Dreams [25]
feet wearily after last night's debauch; artists with quick, impatient footsteps; tradesmen for orders; children to seek for bread. I heard the stream beat by. And at the alley's mouth, at the street corner, a broken barrel-organ was playing; sometimes it quavered and almost stopped, then went on again, like a broken human voice.
I listened: my heart scarcely moved; it was as cold as lead. I could not bear the long day before me; and I tried to sleep again; yet still I heard the feet upon the pavement. And suddenly I heard them cry loud as they beat, "We are seeking!--we are seeking!--we are seeking!" and the broken barrel-organ at the street corner sobbed, "The Beautiful!--the Beautiful!-- the Beautiful!" And my heart, which had been dead, cried out with every throb, "Love!--Truth!--the Beautiful!--the Beautiful!" It was the music I had heard in Heaven that I could not sing there.
And fully I awoke.
Upon the faded quilt, across my bed a long yellow streak of pale London sunlight was lying. It fell through my narrow attic window.
I laughed. I rose.
I was glad the long day was before me.
Paris and London.
End
I listened: my heart scarcely moved; it was as cold as lead. I could not bear the long day before me; and I tried to sleep again; yet still I heard the feet upon the pavement. And suddenly I heard them cry loud as they beat, "We are seeking!--we are seeking!--we are seeking!" and the broken barrel-organ at the street corner sobbed, "The Beautiful!--the Beautiful!-- the Beautiful!" And my heart, which had been dead, cried out with every throb, "Love!--Truth!--the Beautiful!--the Beautiful!" It was the music I had heard in Heaven that I could not sing there.
And fully I awoke.
Upon the faded quilt, across my bed a long yellow streak of pale London sunlight was lying. It fell through my narrow attic window.
I laughed. I rose.
I was glad the long day was before me.
Paris and London.
End