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Robert Laurence Binyon - A Dream
Work rating: Low

Behold an endless evening over land
 That lapped in vast vales rises up afar
 Into the frozen mountains; evening brimmed
 With silence, so miraculously clear
 That crevices in peaks of distant stone
 And rust--red boughs of cedars, at the foot
 Of those remote and voiceless waterfalls,
 Which down the black steeps of lone gorges plunge,
 Are shaped distinct unto the wondering eye;
 And the mind, seeing, notes not how `tis fair,
 But throned in languor has already summ`d
 All the vain journey thither. Not a sound
 Near by; no motion lifts a single leaf,
 Nor stirs one cold stalk of the sappy spurge
 And powdery hemlock, nor `mid clustered reeds
 The peeping heads of certain dim blue flowers
 Mirrored in water idle as themselves.
 And she that sits upon the bank, whose head
 Droops toward her shoulder, whose full lips are closed,
 And whose wide eyes seem vacant, yet contain
 Profound remembrance sunken like a wreck
 Beneath gray seas, is she of this entranced
 And glimmering land the sole inhabitant?
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