 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
The Soul in Dreams
The soul heeds not, though darkest night
Each object doth conceal;
In dreams it sees the noonday light,
Which all things doth reveal.
Each object doth conceal;
In dreams it sees the noonday light,
Which all things doth reveal.
Nor doth it heed the Winter's snow,
That deep around it lies,
Nor wintry winds that piercing blow;
But in sweet dreams it flies
That deep around it lies,
Nor wintry winds that piercing blow;
But in sweet dreams it flies
Where Summer clothes each vale and hill,
And plucks its fruits and flowers;
And wanders freely at its will
Amid its blooming bowers.
And plucks its fruits and flowers;
And wanders freely at its will
Amid its blooming bowers.
To gardens ever green and fair,
Where blooms the deathless rose,
Where deathless lilies scent the air,
It oft in slumber goes.
Where blooms the deathless rose,
Where deathless lilies scent the air,
It oft in slumber goes.
'Tis not to sense, nor Nature kin,
Nor grows it ever old;
Though dim the eye, and mind within,
It can its youth behold.
Nor grows it ever old;
Though dim the eye, and mind within,
It can its youth behold.
564
For 'tis of a celestial birth,
And casts around it here
A glory, that is not of earth,
But of its native sphere.
And casts around it here
A glory, that is not of earth,
But of its native sphere.
Poem No. 569; date unknown
| Jones Very : The Complete Poems | |