How Beautiful Are Dreams! In Dreams The

It Was The Hour When Gauze-winged Insects Are Born That Only Live For A Day.

It Is Very Seldom That The Same Man Knows Much Of Science, And About The Things That Were Known Before Science Came.

Of Pure Poetry There Are Two Kinds, That Which Mirrors The Beauty Of The World In Which Our Bodies Are, And That Which Builds The More Mysterious Kingdoms Where Geography Ends And Fairyland Begins, With Gods And Heroes At War, And The Sirens Singing Still, And Alph Going Down To The Darkness From Xanadu.

Contrast Is The Dramatist's Method.

How Beautiful Are Dreams! In Dreams The Dead May Live, Even The Long Dead And The Very Silent.