ISLE O' DREAMSTO E. E. G.
Every poet has an islandSomewhere in the sea.Sometimes in dreams my island rises,Green as green can be.There is silver mist around,And a faint entrancing soundOf lapping waves upon the sand.
There's a castle on my island;It is terraced to the sea;And a chamber 1n a tower 1s for me;It is hung about in faded tapestry,And the window high looks out upon the sea.
I sit there in my chamber and the sun shines dreamilyUpon heroic figures in the faded tapestry.In the mirror on the wall myself I can not see,—I see the room reflected, but not a stroke of me.
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