A Dream.
I stood far off above the haunts of menSomewhere, I know not, when the sky was dimFrom some worn glory, and the morning hymnOf the gay oriole echoed from the glen.Wandering, I felt earth's peace, nor knew I soughtA visioned face, a voice the wind had caught.
I passed the waking things that stirred and gazed,Thought-bound, and heeded not; the waking flowersDrank in the morning mist, dawn's tender showers,And looked forth for the...
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