I watched a while on a summer's day,
Above the field in which I lay:
The clouds take form and assume their place,
And in one I saw a face.
A face obscure and yet familiar.
What name that face? Twas sweet Delia!
For one brief moment I saw her peer;
I felt a subtle grayness near.
That shade of gray between dream and sleep,
When thoughts we think, but do not keep.
I watched a while and in conscious thought,
The elusive dream at last I caught.