THE PASSION OF A DREAM.
The turtles by the river's edge,Crept silently along,And the water-snake lay coiled,In the glare of the noonday sun.
No zephyr lightly stirring,Shook the willow's long green plumes,No wing of wild-bird whirring,Broke the stillness of the noon.
The blue heaven lay in shadow,Of the great red flaming sun,And the distant sky and ocean,Seened blended into one.
Fresh from the city's crowded streets,Its long strait lines of brick,Its scenes of suffering, and of pain,That turn the strong heart sick.
Deep in the lush green grass I lay,And watched the sleepy kine,
