Explore "The Pagan" by Marie Van Vorst on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I. Oh the dream, / Warm, wild, beautiful, -- born of midsummer. / No, it was April gave it; no, it was May! / It was the whole round year, / Days, months, filled with it, / Hours Eden inspired. / Moments astral born, / Life / Fused, swathed, held in its mystery, / Perfect content in the present, / Ecstasy at the thought of a future. / Oh the dream.... / Hush, I will sing of it....
II. I was a child, knee-deep in the rugged daisies; / Small head level with bright bold heads tossed free. / Brown eyes following farm and meadow mazes: / Little heart one with nature, flower, and tree; / Friend with the birds.... Then childhood passed, on a sudden as pure dawn's haze is / Kissed to glorious morning, and all eyes see, / Standing young as the June, little heart's pulse set free / Throbbed to the song that the soul of the whole world's lays is: -- / A child in the home-land meadows, / Belovèd, I dreamed of thee.