XXVII. DAYDREAMS Full oft through some enchanted land I tread Wherein can live no hatred, pain, or fear, For all the heavens with truth's own light are clear, And love's own tints o'er all the earth are spread. Where, through illumined foliage overhead, Swift, bright-winged birds will flash and disappear, While murmuring voices from the leaves I hear Repeating all my heart in secret said. Not there I dwell, and yet my home is there, Those flower-grown paths I trod, a lonely child, Breathing with simple joy the fragrant air. Lured on by half-seeing beauty even then, With restless feet I roamed from hill to glen, By gleaming birds, by whispering leaves beguiled.
