The Lost Dream Poem by Paddy J. P. Harris

Last night I dreamt a dream that stirred my heart,
The sort that grips the spirit and the soul.
Crept forth from out some quiet hidden part
Of minds most deep and guarded mixing bowl.
But curse you Lethe, for of your stream I drank,
For once I woke from out that faerie place,
Like proud Atlantis, all my memories sank.
I lost the shape of that most lovely face!
Now all I know, and trust, is that I pine
With sighs and longings that I shall not shake,
Because no place or person seems as fine,
I think, as that which sleepy mind did make.
How shall I end this slowly gnawing strife?
When sun is set, and dreams are true as life?