A Dream Of Long Ago

Lying listless in the mosses     Underneath a tree that tosses     Flakes of sunshine, and embosses         Its green shadow with the snow -     Drowsy-eyed, I sink in slumber     Born of fancies without number -     Tangled fancies that encumber         Me with dreams of long ago.     Ripples of the river singing;     And the water-lilies swinging     Bells of Parian, and ringing         Peals of perfume faint and fine,     While old forms and fairy faces     Leap from out their hiding-places     In the past, with glad embraces         Fraught with kisses sweet as wine.     Willows dip their slender fingers     O'er the little fisher's stringers,     While he baits his hook and lingers         Till the shadows gather dim;     And afar off comes a calling     Like the sounds of water falling,     With the lazy echoes drawling         Messages of haste to him.     Little naked feet that tinkle     Through the stubble-fields, and twinkle     Down the winding road, and sprinkle         Little mists of dusty rain,     While in pasture-lands the cattle     Cease their grazing with a rattle     Of the bells whose clappers tattle         To their masters down the lane.     Trees that hold their tempting treasures     O'er the orchard's hedge embrasures,     Furnish their forbidden pleasures         As in Eden lands of old;     And the coming of the master     Indicates a like disaster     To the frightened heart that faster         Beats pulsations manifold.     Puckered lips whose pipings tingle     In staccato notes that mingle     Musically with the jingle-         Haunted winds that lightly fan     Mellow twilights, crimson-tinted     By the sun, and picture-printed     Like a book that sweetly hinted         Of the Nights Arabian.     Porticoes with columns plaited     And entwined with vines and freighted     With a bloom all radiated         With the light of moon and star;     Where some tender voice is winging     In sad flights of song, and singing     To the dancing fingers flinging         Dripping from the sweet guitar.     Would my dreams were never taken     From me: that with faith unshaken     I might sleep and never waken         On a weary world of woe!     Links of love would never sever     As I dreamed them, never, never!     I would glide along forever         Through the dreams of long ago.