There is a place (I know it well) <br />Where beech trees crowd into a gloom, <br />And where a twinkling woodland well <br />Flings from a rock a rippling plume, <br />And, like a Faun beneath a spell, <br />The silence breathes of beam and bloom. <br /> <br />And here it was I met with her, <br />The child I never hoped to see, <br />Who long had been heart's-comforter, <br />And soul's-companion unto me, <br />Telling me oft of myths that were, <br />And of far faerylands to-be. <br /> <br />She stood there smiling by the pool, <br />The cascade made below the rocks; <br />Innocent, naked, beautiful, <br />The frail gerardia in her locks, <br />A flower, elfin-sweet and cool, <br />Freckled as faery four-o -clocks. <br /> <br />Her eyes were rain-bright; and her hair <br />An amber gleam like that which tips <br />The golden leaves when Fall comes fair; <br />And twin red berries were her lips; <br />Her beauty, pure and young and bare, <br />Shone like a star from breasts to hips. <br /> <br />Oft had I seen her thus, of old, <br />In dreams, where she played many parts: <br />A form, possessing in its mold <br />The high perfection of all Arts, <br />With all the hopes to which men hold, <br />And loves for which they break their hearts. <br /> <br />And she was mine. Within her face <br />I read' her soul. . . . Then, while she smiled, <br />A sudden wind swept through the place <br />And she was gone. My heart beat wild; <br />The leaves shook and, behold, no trace <br />Was there of her, the faery child. <br /> <br />Only a ray of gold that hung <br />Above the water; and a bough, <br />Rain-bright and berried, low that swung: <br />Yet, in my heart of hearts, somehow, <br />I felt (I need not search among <br />The trees) that she was hiding now.<br /><br />Madison Julius Cawein<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-dream-child/
