This was my dream: <br /> <br />It seemed the afternoon <br />Of some deep tropic day; and yet the moon <br />Stood round and bright with golden alchemy <br />High in a heaven bluer than the sea. <br />Long lawny lengths of perishable cloud <br />Hung in a west o'er rolling forests bowed; <br />Clouds raining colours, gold and violet, <br />That, opening, seemed from mystic worlds to let <br />Hints down of Parian beauty and lost charms <br />Of dim immortals, young, with floating forms. <br />And all about me fruited orchards grew, <br />Pear, quince and peach, and plums of dusty blue; <br />Rose-apricots and apples streaked with fire, <br />Kissed into ripeness by the sun's desire <br />And big with juice. And on far, fading hills, <br />Down which it seemed a hundred torrent rills <br />Flashed rushing silver, vines and vines and vines <br />Of purple vintage swollen with cool wines; <br />Pale pleasant wines and fragrant as late June, <br />Their delicate tang drawn from the wine-white moon <br />And from the clouds o'er this sweet world there dripped <br />An odorous music, strangely feverish-lipped, <br />That swung and swooned and panted in mad sighs; <br />Investing at each throb the air with eyes, <br />And forms of sensuous spirits, limpid white, <br />Clad on with raiment as of starry night; <br />Fair, faint embodiments of melody, <br />From out whose hearts of crystal one could see <br />The music stream like light through delicate hands <br />Hollowing a lamp. And as on sounding sands <br />The ocean murmur haunts the rosy shells, <br />Within whose convolutions beauty dwells, <br />My soul became a vibrant harp of love, <br />Re-echoing all the harmony above.<br /><br />Madison Julius Cawein<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-dream-159/
