Bereft, She Thinks She Dreams

I dream that the dearest I ever knew
  Has died and been entombed.
I am sure it's a dream that cannot be true,
  But I am so overgloomed
By its persistence, that I would gladly
  Have quick death take me,
Rather than longer think thus sadly;
    So wake me, wake me!

It has lasted days, but minute and hour
  I expect to get aroused
And find him as usual in the bower
  Where we so happily housed.
Yet stays this nightmare too appalling,
  And like a web shakes me,
And piteously I keep on calling,
    And no one wakes me!