Forth from my heart that dream of fair and good,
Like Eve from side of sleeping Adam, burst,
And by me, when I woke, in glory stood.
That dream wert thou! A dream, and yet how true!
Still, still I see thee oft beside that brook,
Standing 'mid lilies in the evening dew,
And in thy hand a little open book.
Dear are such memories; dearer far than these
Art thou—now known; a lovely human soul
Running on levels of some spirit-breeze