Thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades Was it a vision or a waking dream Fled is that music - Do I wake or sleep
Thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades Was it a vision or a waking dream Fled is that music - Do I wake or sleep
What the imagination seizes as beauty must be truth.
You speak of Lord Byron and me; there is this great difference between us. He describes what he sees I describe what I imagine. Mine is the hardest task.
My imagination is a monastery and I am its monk.
I am certain of nothing but the holiness of the heart's affections, and the truth of imagination.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories