Dream within a Dream
Take this kiss upon your lips with the parting of you. Thus this much let me avow you are not wrong. Who deem that my days are but a dream? Yet, hope has frowned away into the night, or in the days, or in a vision or in none. Is it therefore the less gone? For all that we see or seen is but a dream within a dream? I stand amid a roar of surf-tormented souls. And I hold within me hands grains of golden sand. How few? Yet how they creep through my fingers into the deep. While I weep! While I weep? O God can I not grasp with tighter clasp? O God can I not save one from the pitiless waves. All that we see or seen is but a dream within a dream.
O New Orleans where have you gone.
Thy beauty to me is like those nice a bark of yoke. That gently moves over a perfume sea. The weary way worn wonderer bore to his own native shore. On desperate seas long won't a room. Thy hyacinth hair. Thy classic face. Thy naiad air that has brought me home to the glory that is New Orleans. And the grandeur that was Paris. Lo in your brilliant window niche how statue like I see thee stand. The agate lamp that are in thy hands! (Ah) psyche from the regions which are holy land.