Dream Fear XLIV.

O Love, the Realm of Dreams

Is thine; they come, unsought:

With fiery Weapons, throng'd,

As if whole Armies fought.

The Standard of thy Rule,

Hot Hearts bear in the Van;

It flames till Worlds, o'ercome,

Beneath thy Sway are brought.

Thou, ever and again,

Sendst out a Phantom Form;

Till cower weak, trembling Souls,

Like Children terror-wrought.

But when a Soul resigns,

Thou, Victor, marchest in:

A Conqueror—lovelier far

Than ever Soul had thought.