A Dream
'Twas summer, and the spot a cool retreat —
Where curious eyes came not, nor footstep rude
Disturbed the lovers' chosen solitude:
Beneath an oak there was a mossy seat,
Where we reclined, while birds above us wooed
Their mates in songs voluptuously sweet.
A limpid brook went murmuring by our feet,
And all conspired to urge the tender mood.
Methought I touched the streamlet with a flower,
When from its bosom sprang a fountain clear,
Falling again in the translucent shower,
Which made more green each blade of grass appear:
"This stream 's thy heart," I said; " Love's touch alone
Can change it to the fount which maketh green my own."
~~
Elizabeth C. Kinney (1810-1889)
from Poems, 1867
[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]
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