Songs of A Wayfarer By William Davies |
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| XXIX. | XXIX. THE DREAM. |
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 | Songs of A Wayfarer |  |
26
XXIX. THE DREAM.
One night I dreamt a foolish dream
Which like a waking truth did seem.
Which like a waking truth did seem.
I dreamt my lady beauteous
Stood in a garden glorious;
Stood in a garden glorious;
White blossoms woven with the rare
Bright marvel of her yellow hair.
Bright marvel of her yellow hair.
And all things in the world did bring
Their gifts to her in offering.
Their gifts to her in offering.
The orchards, fruit: the woodlands, flowers
Culled from a thousand scented bowers.
Culled from a thousand scented bowers.
The breezes such sweet songs did sing,
That one would die in listening.
That one would die in listening.
The rillets stayed their waters fleet,
And curled in dimples at her feet.
And curled in dimples at her feet.
The rivers brought her jewels, and
The ocean rolled her golden sand.
The ocean rolled her golden sand.
The birds sang praises and undrest
Their plumes to give her of their best.
Their plumes to give her of their best.
The silken field-mouse and the mole
With beaded eyes looked from their hole.
With beaded eyes looked from their hole.
27
The owlet left his nest of fur,
And stood and winked and blinked at her.
And stood and winked and blinked at her.
The drowsy bat came out ith' sun
To pay her due devotion.
To pay her due devotion.
She smiled and spoke: her gracious voice
Made every living thing rejoice.
Made every living thing rejoice.
But when on me her smile did beam,
I woke, and knew it was a dream.
I woke, and knew it was a dream.
| Songs of A Wayfarer | |