A Dream Shape

With moon-white hearts that held a gleam     I gathered wild-flowers in a dream,     And shaped a woman, whose sweet blood     Was odour of the wildwood bud.     From dew, the starlight arrowed through,     I wrought a woman's eyes of blue;     The lids that on her eyeballs lay,     Were rose-pale petals of the May.     Out of a rosebud's veins I drew     The flagrant crimson beating through     The languid lips of her, whose kiss     Was as a poppy's drowsiness.     Out of the moonlight and the air     I wrought the glory of her hair,     That o'er her eyes' blue heaven lay     Like some gold cloud o'er dawn of day.     I took the music of the breeze     And water, whispering in the trees,     And shaped the soul that breathed below     A woman's blossom breasts of snow.     A shadow's shadow in the glass     Of sleep, my spirit saw her pass:     And thinking of it now, meseems     We only live within our dreams.     For in that time she was to me     More real than our reality;     More real than Earth, more real than I     The unreal things that pass and die.