For Lost I Am In My Dreams of Terror
For lost I am in my dreams of terror
- ring the bells of ghastly churches made
of iron! And flee the nightly tremor
from memories of children at play.
These sweep the mind in most pleasing ways,
like specks of tulips on gentle winds borne,
Futility, my dear, hides the Sun’s rays
and closes the door to memories adored
and I weep in my dreams for happiness no more.
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