Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, "A Day Dream." in The Bijou; (London: William Pickering , 1828)
   
      
         
            
               The Bijou; 
               or Annual of Literature and the Arts
            
            compiled by William Fraser
            
            
               
                  William Pickering
               
               London
            
            1828
            
               
                  pp. 146-147
               
            
         
      
      
         
             146 
            
               A Day Dream
            
            
               By S.T. Coleridge, Esq.
            
            
               MY eyes make pictures, when they are shut: — 
               I see a fountain, large and fair,
               A willow and a ruined hut,
               And thee, and me and Mary there: — 
               O Mary! make thy gentle lap our pillow!
               Bend o'er us, like a bower, my beautiful green willow!
            
            
            
               A wild- rose roofs the ruined shed,
               And that and summer will agree:
               And, lo! where Mary leans her head,
               Two dear names carved upon the tree! — 
               And Mary's tears — they are not tears of sorrow, — 
               Our sister and our friend will both be here tomorrow.
            
            
            
               'Twas day; but now few, large, and bright,
               The stars are round the crescent moon; — 
               And now it is a dark warm night,
               The balmiest of the month of June!
                147 
               A glow-worm fall'n, and in the marge remounting
               Shines and its shadow shines, fit stars for our sweet fountain.
            
            
            
               O ever — ever be thou blest!
               O Asra! dearly love I thee
               This brooding warmth across my breast;
               This depth of tranquil bliss — ah, me!
               Fount, tree and shed are gone, I know not whither,
               But in one quiet room we three are still together.
            
            
            
               The shadows dance upon the wall
               By the still dancing fire- flames made;
               And now they slumber moveless all!
               And now they make to me deep shade!
               But not from me shall this mild darkness steal thee,
               I dream thee with mine eyes, and at my heart I feel thee!
            
            
            
               Thine eyelash on my cheek doth play — 
               'Tis Mary's hand upon my brow!
               But let me check this tender lay
               Which none may hear but she and thou,
               Like the still hive at quiet midnight humming,
               Murmur it to yourselves, ye two beloved women.