The man of light Goes vagrant through my sleep at night He stops in the abandoned corner To extract words from my memory to write And rewrite them aloud, To blot lines out. He looks into the mirror Of the house sunken deep in the darklight. He recollects something And slinks from my sleep. I wake in dread And try to recollect some thing Of what he wrote, of what was said, In vain. For the light Has erased the papers and my memory With daybreak's deadman white.