The heart awakens in a dream
To light a lamp of truth
That sheds an immortality
On all the trivialty
That went away with youth.
That day in school they laughed because
The new girl came in jeans.
An incident forgotten, yes;
But slumber stirs an old distress
That hasn't died by any means.
The boy who sadly worshipped
His pretty third-grade teacher
Has not the dimmest memory of
His truly first and vanished love--
But, oh, a dream can reach her!
However pale the picture is,
Concealed however deep--
If it has touched the heart enough,
A drama made of fairy stuff
Unfolds, closed-circuit, while you sleep.
(First published in Along the Lane: Dedicated to the memory of Thomas William Larsen, who lost his life in World War II)
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