Follow
lyrics
For my own part, I have never had a thought
Which I could not set down in words
With even more distinctness than that with which I conceived it.
There is, however, a class of fancies of exquisite delicacy
Which are not thoughts
And to which as yet I have found it absolutely impossible
To adapt to language
These fancies arise in the soul, alas, how rarely
Only at epochs of most intense tranquillity
When the bodily and mental health are in perfection.
And at those weird points of time
Where the confines of the waking world
Blend with the world of dreams
And so I captured this fancy,
Where all that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.
