In the dark before dawn, the speaker wakes and opens a window to a quivering world of daisies and nodding cowslips. The grass shivers, stars shine, and he imagines seeing Robin—someone he longs for—standing ghostly on the green. Back in bed, he dreams of Robin: a shadow by a stream, then a voice and a violent shake as if every window-pane had broken. So vivid is the dream that he rises early, lights a lamp, and finds dewy tracks outside. He calls out, and to his joy, Robin himself walks in. They kiss and part before the old folks stir. The mood is half spellbound and half hungry for love, moving from eerie moonlight to quiet dawn joy. Clare makes the natural world tremble with the speaker’s own longing, until fantasy steps right through the door.
I Dreamt of Robin — Summary
I opened the casement this morn at starlight, And, the moment I got out of bed, The daisies were quaking about in their white And the cowslip was nodding its head. The grass was all shivers, the stars were all bright, And Robin that should come at e'en-- I thought that I saw him, a ghost by moonlight, Like a stalking horse stand on the green.
I went bed agen and did nothing but dream Of Robin and moonlight and flowers. He stood like a shadow transfixed by a stream, And I couldn't forget him for hours. I'd just dropt asleep when I dreamed Robin spoke, And the casement it gave such a shake, As if every pane in the window was broke; Such a patter the gravel did make.
So I up in the morning before the cock crew And to strike me a light I sat down. I saw from the door all his track in the dew And, I guess, called "Come in and sit down." And one, sure enough, tramples up to the door, And who but young Robin his sen? And ere the old folks were half willing to stir We met, kissed, and parted agen.