January 1 to 14

The Time of Dreams

What Sweet, what happy days said I,

When dreams made Time Eternity!

Before I knew this body’s breath

Could not take life in without death.

As fresh as any field of grass

This breath of life was, then; it was

An orchard with more fruit than leaf,

And every owl enjoyed his grief.

No winters morn when I went forth,

Could force on me a sunless North.

When I would watch the bees for hours

Clinging to their love-bitten flowers;

And, dreaming to the songs of birds,

Would still delay my deeds and words;

And every common day would place

A shining Sunday in my face.

O for my greater days to come,

When I shall travel far from home!

On seas that have no shade in sight,

Into the woods that have no light;

Over the mountains’ heads so tall,

Cut by the clouds to pieces small;

Across wide plains that give my eye

No house or tree to measure them by.

And all the wonders I shall see

In some old city new to me;

Haunting the ships and docks, and then

To hear the strange, sea-faring men

That with their broken English prove

More lands than one to roam and love.

What sweet, what happy days had I–

When dreams made Time Eternity!