My Soul Is Sick With Longing

My soul is sick with longing, shaken with loss, Yea, shocked with love lost sudden in a dream, Dream-love dream-taken, swept upon the stream Of dreaming Truth, dreamt true, yet deemed as dross: Dreamt Truth that is to waking Truth a gloss, Dream-love that is to the life of loves that seem To bear the rood of love’s eternal theme, The strength that brings to Calvary their cross. I dreamt that love had lit, a burning bird On one green bough of Time, of that dread tree Whereto my soul was crucified: that he Sang with a seraphs voice some wondrous word Blotting out pain, but swift the branch I heard Break, withered, and the song ceased suddenly.