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Updated: July 12, 2025
A something seemed gone from the universe forever; a change like that of death passed through my being; and when I woke, to feel that my being lived again, I knew that it was my youth and its poet-land that were no more, and that I had passed, with an unconscious step, which never could retrace its way, into the hard world of laborious man! "Please, sir, be this note for you?" asked the waiter.
Stand here, and watch the wondrous birth of Dreams From out the Gate of Silence. Time and Tide, With fingers on their lips, forever bide In large-eyed wonderment, where Thoughts and Themes Of days long flown pass down the slumbrous streams To ports of Poet-land and Song-land. Side By side the many-colored Visions glide, And leave a wake where Fancy glows and gleams. And then the bells!
The nearer he grew to the dazzling object, to the possession of which Fate seemed to have shaped all circumstances, the more he felt the charm of those mystic influences which his colder reason had disdained. He who is ambitious of things afar, and uncertain, passes at once into the Poet-Land of Imagination; to aspire and to imagine are yearnings twin-born.
The nearer he grew to the dazzling object, to the possession of which Fate seemed to have shaped all circumstances, the more he felt the charm of those mystic influences which his colder reason had disdained. He who is ambitious of things afar, and uncertain, passes at once into the Poet-Land of Imagination; to aspire and to imagine are yearnings twin-born.
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