Part 1 — OMNIA SOMNIA
Reading edition
Dawn drives the dreams away, yet some abide. Once, in a tide of pale and sunless weather, I dreamed I wandered on a bare hillside, When suddenly the birds sang all together.
Still it was Winter, even in the dream; There was no leaf nor bud nor young grass springing; The skies shone cold above the frost-bound stream: It was not Spring, and yet the birds were singing.
Blackbird and thrush and plaintive willow-wren, Chaffinch and lark and linnet, all were calling; A golden web of music held me then, Innumerable voices, rising, falling.
O, never do the birds of April sing More sweet than in that dream I still remember: Perchance the heart may keep its songs of Spring Even through the wintry dream of life's December.
Rosamund Marriott Watson [1863-1911]