Poems (Schiller)/My dream

by Rebecca Jane Schiller

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.]