Eleanor Farjeon (Элинор Фарджон)
Sonnets. 17. My Little Dream, My Momentary Dream
My little dream, my momentary dream, My illimitable dream has slipt away. It came not like the morning, but the gleam In morning’s van that is not night or day. But since my walls of ignorance are broken, Though on that desert knowledge builds no towers, I cannot say of life, he has not spoken, I cannot say of love, he has no powers. I have seen apparitions. I have heard Rumours within my soul’s profoundest cave. Movements remote and mighty have been stirred In my ancestral blood, while from the grave And womb of time strange thunders did arise That shook the throne of thought with prophecies.
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