Poems (Schiller)/My dream
For works with similar titles, see My dream.
MY DREAM
'Twas a beautiful day in balmy June,When the sunny warblers were all in tune,That I set out for a shady nook,And at last sat down by a babbling brook.
And as I reclined on the daisied bank,Into a sweet slumber I soon sank,And then I thought that I was a fairy,A being so lithe, free, graceful and airy.
Now I played with the curls of some infant fair,Or smoothed back the mass of thick black hair,From the gentle invalid's fair, round face,As the wind fanned her brow with a dainty grace.
Now I came to an heiress reading a book,But she spoke not a word nor gave me a look,So I tossed the brown curls 'round her fair neck and face,When I was suddenly awakened by sweet little Grace.[Aged 12 years.]