The Poet's Dream
By a ruined tower olden,
Lay the poet idly dreaming;
'Neath him fields with gowans golden,
O'er him skies were gently streaming.
Sparkling streamlets, foaming whitely,
O'er the cascade downward flowing,
On their lips red poppies brightly
In the sunshine beauteous glowing.
Sweetly summer it was breathing,
Blooming, balmy crimson roses,
Fairy fingers deftly weaving,
Spreading carpets, bunching posies.
Laverocks in the sky were winging
Dark against its silver brightness;
And to earth were clearly singing
Lyrics of a tender lightness.
Here and there a covey started,
From a rugged knoll of heather,
Here and there a blackbird darted,
Glitt'ring suns on every feather.