I too may through the pores of nature flow.
But I, alas, nor trickle can nor fume,
One jot to forward the great work of Time,
'Tis mine to hearken while these ply the loom,
So shall my silence with their music chime.
THE DREAM VALLEY
Jan. 20. The prospect of our river valley from Tahatawan Cliff appeared to me again in my dreams.
Last night, as I lay gazing with shut eyes
Into the golden land of dreams,
I thought I gazed adown a quiet reach