by Christina Rossetti
The hope I dreamed of was a dream,
  Was but a dream; and now I wake,
Exceeding comfortless, and worn, and old,
  For a dream's sake.
I hang my harp upon a tree,
  A weeping willow in a lake;
I hang my silent harp there, wrung and snapt
  For a dream's sake.
Lie still, lie still, my breaking heart;
  My silent heart, lie still and break:
Life, and the world, and mine own self, are changed
  For a dream's sake.