| I dreamed of golden days that never were
And when I woke it was as though my mind Received the music of a distant year Soaring singing in sweet iambic rhyme And I heard muses with their lyres sing And climbed a mountain where old moonstones lay And as their glowing grew I saw a scene A thousand ships before me in the bay And soldiers and their lovers watching for the day And fill around the wild music ringing And when I went to write it down The words remelted into sound The concert in my mind was gone And left my soul singing with no song |
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