Irene's Dream
And desolate ruined mansion which still stood
To witness through the ages that man once
Had pleasure in the spot. Still on my sense
Flashes the dreamy silver of that lake
Which, as it lay neglected in its reeds,
Mirrored with careless truth the blue, blue sky
And rosy fancies of the setting sun,
For my unshared delight.
Assuredly
That sweet, dead place was brought to life again
In my lost dream—a marble Roman hall
That seemed the growth of scarce historic times
Rose up complete. Yet English was the land,
English the garden. There I lived alone,
Familiar with the creatures of the place,
Wild squirrels, birds and insects, leaf and flower;
And for all human friends a silent pair,
The ancient surly woodman and his wife,
Who in their ivied cot much rather seemed
The natural growth of those forgotten shades
Than servants and companions of my home.
You were too young;[1] but I remember well
To witness through the ages that man once
Had pleasure in the spot. Still on my sense
Flashes the dreamy silver of that lake
Which, as it lay neglected in its reeds,
Mirrored with careless truth the blue, blue sky
And rosy fancies of the setting sun,
For my unshared delight.
Assuredly
That sweet, dead place was brought to life again
In my lost dream—a marble Roman hall
That seemed the growth of scarce historic times
Rose up complete. Yet English was the land,
English the garden. There I lived alone,
Familiar with the creatures of the place,
Wild squirrels, birds and insects, leaf and flower;
And for all human friends a silent pair,
The ancient surly woodman and his wife,
Who in their ivied cot much rather seemed
The natural growth of those forgotten shades
Than servants and companions of my home.
You were too young;[1] but I remember well
132
- ↑ It is evident that Irene is here narrating her recent dream, though in this picture of the old couple she describes the figures she had really known in her childhood in that day's visit, or, as other passages would imply, that residence of some duration in the old hall called the Fairies' Folly. The woodman and his wife were actual acquaintances of the authoress in her childhood.
