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Show Reverie. They swiftly come, they swiftly pass. The shadow pictures in the smok;. Like mirrowed faces on the glass Of foregone folk. And as they glide and slip away Into the amaranthine streams, I vainly plead they will not stay To 'wake my dreams. j A gleaming aureole and bright Surrounds, a face with dimoles fair. It dances in the firelight And passes there. Dreams, drer.ms. sweet dreams! They I ebb and flow, And pass away in rings and smoke; Fond pictures of the long ago And foregone folk. Horace Seymour Keller. |