The Great War

from Late Songs, an electronic edition

The Last Quarrel

As I lay sleeping on my bed,

Before the dawn of day,

I dreamt my only Love was dead—

My only Love alway.

Oh, dreadful anguish of a dream,

Beyond all waking grief!

In all the darkness not a gleam,

Nor in the pang relief.

Yet was I spared the sharpest sword,

And the fierce thrust thereof—

I had forgotten the last word

Wherewith I sped my Love.