The night comes down, in ever-darkening shapes that seem–
To grope, with eerie fingers for the window–then–
To rest to sleep, enfolding me, as in a dream
Faith–might I awaken!
And drips the rain with seeming sad, insistent beat.
Shivering across the pane, drooping tear-wise,
And softly patters by, like little fearing feet.
The feathery ash is fluttered; there upon the pane,–
The dying fire casts a flickering ghostly beam,–
Then closes in the night and gently falling rain.
About This Poem
“The Dreamer” was originally published in Harper’s Weekly in 1911, when Djuna Barnes was nineteen years old. This poem was Barnes’s first published text.