DREAMER

• "I don't suppose I'll ever see
• A dryad slipping from her tree
• Nor hear the pulsing pipes of Pan
• (although at times I think I can)
• Nor see the moon-nymphs dance at night
• And yet perhaps . . . perhaps I might.
• I watch the waves break on the rocks
• And, in between the thundered shocks
• I think that I can almost hear
• The sirens singing sweet and clear.
• Sometimes the shadows on a tree
• Like dappled fauns appear to me
• And once beside a blue lagoon
• Beneath a witching tropic moon
• I saw the flash of silver scales
• (the kind that grow on mermaid's tails)
• I don't suppose I'll ever see
• These things that mean so much to me
• But if I watch by night, by day,
• You cannot tell . . . perhaps I may."

-- Don Blanding, 1928