Explore "Mirage" by Amy Lowell on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
How is it that, being gone, you fill my days, / And all the long nights are made glad by thee? / No loneliness is this, nor misery, / But great content that these should be the ways / Whereby the Fancy, dreaming as she strays, / Makes bright and present what she would would be.
And who shall say if the reality / Is not with dreams so pregnant. For delays / And hindrances may bar the wished-for end; / A thousand misconceptions may prevent / Our souls from coming near enough to blend; / Let me but think we have the same intent, / That each one needs to call the other, "friend!" / It may be vain illusion. I'm content.