I know a road that leads into a city, Also a lane that finds a cooling stream, Where ferns may look down at their green reflection And sway with the winds and dream- and dream. I know a path that leads into a forest, Lined with purple shadows of the night, While poplars bend somewhere along a hilltop Ringing their silver bells in quick delight. I know a trail that dances over hill-tops Reaching high for clouds that sail the blue, But best I know a path that leads me homeward- A lane that takes me home to friends- and you.
We all dream; we do not understand our dreams, yet we act as if nothing strange goes on in our sleep minds, strange at least by comparison with the logical, purposeful doings of our minds when we are awake.
It is the individual only who is timeless. Societies, cultures, and civilizations - past and present - are often incomprehensible to outsiders, but the individual's hungers, anxieties, dreams, and preoccupations have remained unchanged through the millennia.
I slept, and dreamed that life was Beauty; I woke, and found that life was Duty. Was thy dream then a shadowy lie? Toil on, poor heart, unceasingly; And thou shalt find thy dream to be A truth and noonday light to thee.