Walter Murdoch (1874–1970). The Oxford Book of Australasian Verse. 1918.
122. The Dream
I
With the tears for deeds deep hid in sleep.
I knew no sorrow here, but yet
The tears fell softly through the deep.
Looked at me through the veil of blank;
I saw their joyous, starlit gleam
Like one who watches rank on rank.
And pass before his awful throne—
Was there thy loving heart unkind,
Was I thy captive all o’erthrown?