Has she not too in dreaming wanderèd?
Then send her soul now to some garden fair
That my soul too may meet and wander there.
J. W. C. C.
The moon that leans o’er yonder fleecy lawn
Lights a white path where wandering souls may stray
From earth as high as heaven: and when the day
Shall pass night’s dusky curtains, newly-drawn,
And swiftly with the footing of a fawn