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Vain fancies these! and I surmise
They came not then between
My startled heart or my glad eyes
And that delightful scene.
Or if they came I could not know,
A captive and a prey
Was I to times so long ago,
And things so far away.
My Father's garden it was spread
Before me in my mind;
Its ancient apple-trees they shed
Their flowers upon the wind:
Its walks, that ran like forest brooks
Through sunshine and through shade,
Its plots for play, its dappled nooks
For musing converse made.
Each bank, each bush in all the place
Took a familiar show,
There was no step of that fair space
I did not seem to know:
Sight grew bewildered, reason swerved
Beneath the magic beam,
Till all the real only served
To authenticate the dream.
