In my childhood dream I rush over a hill and over a dale,
Thorough thicket of a bush, thorough a tangle of a brier,
Over spring blooming park, over a mild slope pale,
Thorough winter flood channel streets, thorough dry fields summer fire!
I am pert and nimble in my dream, I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon orbiting sphere; or the fire glare
And I visit the ghostly silhouettes in the secret forest garden
To dew the wild rose orbs without asking the night wide staring awl's pardon
The cowslips in the garden have the night flies courtship
In their gold glaring lights you see;
And those ruby colored sprouts up hill reign like lordship
In their spotted freckles live their savors to be;
And then at the end of my dream I seek some dewdrops here,
And hang a pearl in every empty cowslip's ear.
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