Then I will dream of blue horizons deep;

Of gardens where the marble fountains weep;

Of kisses, and of ever-singing birds—

A sinless Idyll built of innocent words.


And Trouble, knocking at my window-pane

And...

Poet:

The Angle of a Landscape —

That every time I wake —

Between my Curtain and the Wall

Upon an ample Crack —


Like a Venetian — waiting —

Accosts my open eye —

Is just a Bough of Apples —

...

Poet: