| We are become like phantoms of the night Thro’ the heart’s pity and the heart’s delight. For we have wandered with the wasting streams Across the flower-stained solitude of dreams, The blossom-scattered waterways of dreams. For we have crossed the lotus-covered lake, Where only the sunk places do shake Beneath the waters, and the serpents make A beauteous shining for their passion’s sake. Behold, we are like spectres of the night For the soul’s longing and the soul’s delight. Who for dream’s pleasure and for love’s relief Have drugged dull Time, the heavy footed thief Of old sorrows and the old belief. For we are taught the sea’s iniquities, And see, like fearful-thoughted reveries Sunk vessels by the borders of lost quays. And pale and dreadful hills below the seas. Behold, we are the dreams of vanished nights For love’s old anguish and new love’s delights. We are become like lost men on the moon, Strangers on plains of everlasting noon, Dread wanderers on the mountains of the moon Thus have we seen the moons’ dark fortresses Grown over with moon-moss, where the tree Hung with old dews and woeful radiances Stand like the ghosts of stunted fantasies. We are dumb phantoms of the hollow night Thro’ the soul’s pity and the soul’s delight. Dreamers is by Dorothy Wellesley |
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Dreamers, by Dorothy Wellesley is taken from Early Poems by Dorothy Wellesley. I accessed the .pdf of her publication, digitized by The Library of the 
Chris Murray 