English poem
I
by Marie Van Vorst (1867–1936)
Oh the dream, Warm, wild, beautiful,--born of midsummer. No, it was April gave it; no, it was May! It was the whole round year, Days, months, filled with it, Hours Eden inspired. Moments astral born, Life Fused, swathed, held in its mystery, Perfect content in the present, Ecstasy at the thought of a future. Oh the dream.... Hush, I will sing of it....