Page:Collected poems vol 2 de la mare.djvu/103

 Dark in his pools clear visions lurk,
 * And rosy, as with morning buds,

Along his dales of broom and birk
 * Dreams haunt his solitary woods.

I met at eve the Prince of Sleep,
 * His was a still and lovely face,

He wandered through a valley steep,
 * Lovely in a lonely place.