BEFORE the dawn is yet the day I lie and dream so deep, So drowsy-deep I cannot say If yet I wake or sleep. But in my dream a tune there is, And rings so fresh and sweet That I would rather die than miss The utmost end of it. And yet I know not an it be Some music in the lane, Or but a song that rose with me From sleep, to sink again. And so, alas, and even so I waste my life away; Nor if the tune be real I know, Or but a dream astray. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 22. TO THE SAME [CYRIACK SKINNER] by JOHN MILTON MERCURY; ON LOSING MY POCKET MILTON AT LUSS NEAR BEN LOMOND by ROBERT ANDREWS LADY-SLIPPER by STELLA PFEIFFER BAISCH CAPTAIN MORROW'S THANKSGIVING by LILLIE E. BARR |