A Dream of a Poet

When in the Morphean realm oft' have I seen
Sublime, fantastic visions of the night.
Once as I slept within a forest green
My eyes beheld a most adventurous sight.
Pitch dark it was, but then flew flashing bright
A fiery image of a wingèd steed
Who proudly pranced, yet bounding could take flight
A stallion from all earthly fetters freed.
And yet as I approached he took no heed.
Not even as I dared to touch his side.
I thought, "Now, fool, 'tis confidence you need."
And as I climbed, he stooped to let me ride.
Then up we flew! I felt no trace of fear
Not even as the distant moon grew near.

Each stroke of hoof, the rhythmic beat of wings
Like chanting music without word or tune,
Enthralled me so. Still in my ears it rings
To start my pulse to race, my brain to swoon.
I thought, "No man could ever see at noon
The starry visions forming 'fore my eyes.
Dame Cynthia, the Goddess of the moon.
Does She now steer this steed, these sights devise
To lure me to Her side, in mortal 'guise
With me to lie, breed dreams and never die?"
But I awoke. Yet ere light filled the skies
I dreamt I had, my soul to purify,
Drunk deep the sacred pool of Hippocrene
And spied the world, both troubled and serene.