Repose

Inspired by Daybreak
A poem by Stephen Spender

At dawn she lay with her profile at that angle
Which, when she sleeps, seems the carved face of an angel.
He hair a harp, the hand of a breeze follows
And plays against the white cloud of pillows.
Then, in a flush of rose, she woke, and her eyes that opened
Swam in blue through her rose flesh that dawned.
From the dew of lips, the drop of one word
Fell like the first of fountains, murmured
Darling, upon my ears the song of the first bird.
My dream becomes my dream, she said,come true.
I waken from you to my dream of you.
Oh, my wakened dream then dared assume
The audacity of her sleep. Our dreams
Poured into each others arms, like streams.