I Met You In a Dream
I met you in a dream.
Your lovely eyes
Commanded my sighs
And led me to a mystic stream.
There butterflies
And the roving breeze
Possessed rare, redolent symphonies.
And I witnessed your graceful mane
In a rapturous, misty moonbeam.
My spirit was never to be the same.
For when I met you in the flesh
Our eyes did blend,
And our hearts did mesh.
And all that was holy, of romance, of love
Permeated our passion from above
And instilled in our first kiss
A sanctified, sacred, sacramental bliss.
The things of heaven are made of this!
And because I entered this Kingdom first
I protected you from hunger, from want, from thirst,
From other eyes
And worldly skies.
And when you ascended
Our spirits once more blended,
Yet this time it was forevermore.
You are the only woman I adore-
And now all sorrow and pain has forever ended-
Ended. It is over. And the old earth's feverish, tristful door
Is eternally shut behind you.
Your brown eyes now rejoice
And mingle with the sahara-blue
Of the radiant sea
As your heart beats beside me
Waiting with enraptured bated breath
For the loving whispers of your poet's voice
And his soft and tender, masculine caress
To be shed upon your face and your long, white dress.
"In my Father's House there are many mansions." - John 14:2
My Mansion By The Sea
I spoke with Keats, and we, immersed in his urn,
Walked upon a stone-paved trail,
Lined with lilacs, and bright, green fern.
We wandered to the field where the zephyrs softly sail.
Beneath the happy, happy boughs that can not shed
We pondered true love between brethren and God.
Strolling in our robes, each with a rod,
His thoughts turned to Fanny, and mine to my maiden.
So we agreed to meet that night,
There in the glistening, glowing, gleaming light
In my mansion by the sea, strewn with ivy and laden
With climbing roses which cradle each tower.
Come the moon I received him in my little garden bower.
He introduced his lady to my dear, beloved one
As the stars ascended brightly in the red, descending sun.
And we spoke of things,
Of ethereal rings,
Of chaste and tender whispers which were majestically writ
In our mutual gazes, candlelit.
