The Oft-Repeated Dream

She had no saying dark enough
 For the dark pine that kept
 Forever trying the window latch
 Of the room where they slept.
 
 The tireless but ineffectual hands
 That with every futile pass
 Made the great tree seem as a little bird
 Before the mystery of glass!
 
 It never had been inside the room,
 And only one of the two
 Was afraid in an oft-repeated dream
 Of what the tree might do.