Julian Scutts Poet Imagism

Strange Dreams

I dreamed once of a head of gold
that vastly filled the sky,
and there beneath, alone and cold,
the lonely figure I.

I dreamed once of a suffering sheep
for which all help was vain,
which neither brother death nor sleep
could rescue from its pain.

I dreamed once of a house forlorn
whose name I dare not say.
Those entering there of mother born
had seen the light of day.

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