Sonnet

There came a moment late last night
I woke as with a sudden fever.
Before these eyes had tasted light,
I swore myself a non-believer.
At once I summoned up the dream
That claimed to know my heart's design,
But in my sight it did not seem
To recognize these oaths of mine.
It vanished ere I looked away,
And no more lingered in my mind;
I begged in vain that it should stay,
For in its absence was I blind.
      Such dreams are spun with borrowed gold
      That no mere man can keep or hold.