In The Dreamt Of Time To Come Poem by james watkin

In The Dreamt Of Time To Come



So much is there of the beautiful.
So much home in heart-welcoming's sense.
Wears, whose isle, its floral emblem?
Grants, whose smile, its outcast's recompense?

Too wavy, weak, what revealing light
Does above the sleeper's ken hover
In dreams. Each image as passed through
Spectrum-raised fount; or that skied over.

Tuesday, July 2, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: dreams
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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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