A DREAM
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as it a dream? We sail'd, I thought we sail'd,Martin and I, down the green Alpine stream,Border'd, each bank, with pines; the morning sun,On the wet umbrage of their glossy tops,On the red pinings of their forest-floor, 5Drew a warm scent abroad; behind the pinesThe mountain-skirts, with all their sylvan changeOf bright-leaf'd chestnuts and moss'd walnut-treesAnd the frail scarlet-berried ash, began.Swiss chalets glitter'd on the dewy slopes, 10And from some swarded shelf, high up, there cameNotes of wild pastoral music--over allRanged, diamond-bright, the eternal wall of snow.Upon the mossy rocks at the stream's edge,Back'd by the pines, a plank-built cottage stood, 15Bright in the sun; the climbing gourd-plant's leavesMuffled its walls, and on the stone-strewn roofLay the warm golden gourds; golden, within,Under the eaves, peer'd rows of Indian corn.We shot beneath the cottage with the stream. 20On the brown, rude-carved balcony, two formsCame forth--Olivia's, Marguerite! and thine.Clad were they both in white, flowers in their breast;Straw hats bedeck'd their heads, with ribbons blue,Which danced, and on their shoulders, fluttering, play'd. 25They saw us, they conferred; their bosoms heaved,And more than mortal impulse fill'd their eyes.Their lips moved; their white arms, waved eagerly,Flash'd once, like falling streams; we rose, we gazed.One moment, on the rapid's top, our boat 30Hung poised--and then the darting river of Life(Such now, methought, it was), the river of Life,Loud thundering, bore us by; swift, swift it foam'd,Black under cliffs it raced, round headlands shone.Soon the plank'd cottage by the sun-warm'd pines 35Faded--the moss--the rocks; us burning plains,Bristled with cities, us the sea received. LINES°
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