I dreamt a dream so deep last night,
I felt I dreamt a thousand years;
I felt I’d lived a thousand dreams—
Dreams bearing not a single seam.
Dreams of Atlantean depth were dreamed—
Dreams deeper than I ever thought I’d dream—
Dreams stranger than an Orphic hymn—
Dreams clearer than a starlit stream.
I dreamt that I was Morpheus’ prey
—Apollo’s thespian oracle—
Pacing beneath the star-struck skies
And praying for a miracle.
Although the dreamless never sleep,
Although the sleepless never dream,
Dreams are the things that make this life
All that it is, or may soon be.
I saw a heart without a key,
Two lovers in a sandy-storm,
Calypso on a wind-hewn isle,
Red roses on a desert dune.
I saw a sword with Dido’s blood—
The secrets of Ophelia’s dreams—
A lilac drowned in summer rains—
A miser lost at heaven’s gates.
The final words from lover’s wintered lips—
A snowflake melting on the vernal wind—
White roses bloom on carnaged fields—