Gleams downward strike; bright bubbles upward hover
Through the charmed air; far sea-winds cool my brow.
Invisible lips tell me I shall discover
Today a temple, a mystery, a vow ...
The cycle rounds: only the false seems true.
Last night I dreamed, today I dream, of you.
John Gould Fletcher
IRRADIATIONS
I
Over the roof-tops race the shadows of clouds: