Swift, through some trap mine eyes have never found, <br /> Dim-panelled in the painted scene of Sleep, <br /> Thou, giant Harlequin of Dreams, dost leap <br />Upon my spirit's stage. Then Sight and Sound, <br />Then Space and Time, then Language, Mete and Bound, <br /> And all familiar Forms that firmly keep <br /> Man's reason in the road, change faces, peep <br />Betwixt the legs and mock the daily round. <br />Yet thou canst more than mock: sometimes my tears <br /> At midnight break through bounden lids -- a sign <br /> Thou hast a heart: and oft thy little leaven <br />Of dream-taught wisdom works me bettered years. <br /> In one night witch, saint, trickster, fool divine, <br /> I think thou'rt Jester at the Court of Heaven!<br /><br />Sidney Lanier<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-harlequin-of-dreams/
