WILT thou? let us make a dream. I'll be two inches high. You shall be even slighter, and deft as a butterfly. We'll steal away with the dawn a long day's march through the clover, and the daisies will sprinkle dew on the tiny love and her lover. We'll gather the chestnut blossom (if we can) where it lovely lies, and I will wear one in my bosom, but yours will shine in your eyes. We'll see the enormous sparrows like eagles fan the air, and mine will be rising to heaven, but yours will be waiting there. And we'll take our rest at noontide at the inn of summer weather, whose ancient sign is the Time, and the Place, and the Loved One altogether. And at evening we'll reach the golden Palace of Never Before, and I shall be winding the Slughorn, but you will open the door. |