Les Mouches Fantastiques (amateur journal)/June 1918/My Dull Dream Bowl

All these dreams I wove for you,
All these songs and joys;
Blended them with precious things,
Gold and rare alloys.

Strange dull stones with fire in them,
Dimly hidden gleams;
Moments from the lips of love
Soft as poppy dreams.

Melodies the moaned their hearts
Away on Passion's mouth;
And the soul of tears, moist
As ripe fruits from the south.

In my dull green bowl I mixed
All these things for you,
Blended them with secret thoughts
Shy as sun-wooed dew.

When I have the bowl to you,
Placed it in your hands,

Oh! how bouls now let it fall
And break upon the sands!