Classic Poem

She drams and all her dreams float in her eyes,
So dusky gray themselves are floating dreams,
Mist-gray, yet deep within, a tale of blue —
Spring sky that azure-smiles through ragged fog,
Or blue like water's veilèd opal gleam,
'Neath the mist maidens' trailing silken scarfs.
Oft, through her eyes, I watch her errant soul
Walking the still, dumb corridors of Thought,
With priestess step and strange elusive smile,
Pursing the curved and moulded coral wealth,
As dreamy as the dream that conjured it.
Ah, then I long to grasp her wandering thought!
What vision made her smile — Love's first sweet kiss?