One through the other must ripen and thrive;
Each is shadowed forth in all,
While itself with them is blending,
And eagerly into their deeps doth fall,
Its own peculiar essence mending,
And myriad thoughts to life doth call.
The dream is World, the world is Dream,
And what already past may seem,
Itself is yet in distance moulding;
But Fancy first her court is holding,