Dreams Old And Nascent - Old

I have opened the window to warm my hands on the sill     Where the sunlight soaks in the stone: the afternoon     Is full of dreams, my love, the boys are all still     In a wistful dream of Lorna Doone.     The clink of the shunting engines is sharp and fine,     Like savage music striking far off, and there     On the great, uplifted blue palace, lights stir and shine     Where the glass is domed in the blue, soft air.     There lies the world, my darling, full of wonder and wistfulness and strange     Recognition and greetings of half-acquaint things, as I greet the cloud     Of blue palace aloft there, among misty indefinite dreams that range     At the back of my life's horizon, where the dreamings of past lives crowd.     Over the nearness of Norwood Hill, through the mellow veil     Of the afternoon glows to me the old romance of David and Dora,     With the old, sweet, soothing tears, and laughter that shakes the sail     Of the ship of the soul over seas where dreamed dreams lure the unoceaned explorer.     All the bygone, hushd years     Streaming back where the mist distils     Into forgetfulness: soft-sailing waters where fears     No longer shake, where the silk sail fills     With an unfelt breeze that ebbs over the seas, where the storm     Of living has passed, on and on     Through the coloured iridescence that swims in the warm     Wake of the tumult now spent and gone,     Drifts my boat, wistfully lapsing after     The mists of vanishing tears and the echo of laughter.