’Tis warm-pressed within mine own!
Dreams! Dreams! And yet, we’ve met afore!
I see me flitting thro’ this vale,
And tho’ I strive to spell
The mountain’s height and valley’s depth,
I do but fall afail.
Wouldst thou then drink a potion
Were I to offer thee an empty cup?
Couldst thou to pluck the rainbow from the sky?
As well, then, might I spell to thee.