Somewhere In France,Elsewhere In Time Poem by james watkin

Their's is a serener intermission;
The dream, midst waking states
Placed as twere. Time's misty in-betweenness-
Lost autumn day relates.

Upon drowsy noontide deposited,
Slow burning on a lake
A skiff, buffed of water-lily, wherein
For St. Valentine's sake

Fulfilled the wine to pour, unforbidden
With soaked lips to caress
Skin whiter than the swan's, escorting
Their mood exertionless

A gentleman of discernment, and of
The Age, as clear vouched for
Nobles of her lineage, her look, who
Minuette from the shore.