You set the old summers and fantasies free.
You are mine and no other’s; with life of my life
I made you a Naiad, that were but a stream;
In the moon are brave dreams yet, and chances are rife
For the passion that ventures its all on a dream.
Leapt bravely! Now down through the meadows we’ll go
To the Land of Lost Days, whither all the birds wing,
Where the dials move backward and asphodels blow;
Come flash your tomauns again, dance again, sing!