Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1921/Unreality

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UNREALITY
Through the window-pane I see your face,Its outline a little vagueIn the dimness of the shadow.But the whiteness of your skinIs like a clean ship's sail,With the rays of a thousand moonbeams sweeping overStanding out in the darkness of a night. ​And your eyes, I see them like two golden bowls, them.As I pass out into the blackness,I wonder if I have ever really known you—Or if you exist at all,And are not but a twisted, fevered, silver creation of my brain,And the unreality of you comes over me,Like a mist upon a lonely sea.
Poetry, A Magazine of VerseMercedes de Acosta

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