Thou wast thy mother's only joy;
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?
Awake! thy father does thee keep.
"O, what land is the Land of Dreams?
What are its mountains, and what are its streams?
O father! I saw my mother there,
Among the lilies by waters fair.
"Among the lambs, clothèd in white,
She walk'd with her Thomas in sweet delight.
I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn;
O! when shall I again return?"
Dear child, I also by pleasant streams
Have wander'd all night in the Land of Dreams;
But tho' calm and warm the waters wide,
I could not get to the other side.
"Father, O father! what do we here
In this land of unbelief and fear?
The Land of Dreams is better far
Above the light of the morning star." (William Blake)
(manchmal fallen einem, wenn man über die welt, wie sie nun mal gerade zu sein vorgibt, mit anderen redet, wieder gedichte ein, die man jahre vorher mal sehr mochte - und stellt fest, dass den leuten, mit denen man da redet, es mal ganz genau so ging mit diesen gedichten. an ganz anderen enden der welt. ja auch schön.)
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