FATA MORGANA 
By Rosamund Marriott Watson 
I dreamed the peach-trees blossomed once again. 
I dreamed the birds were calling in the dew, 
Sun-rays fell round me like a golden rain, 
And.-, all was well with us and life was new. 
w that great joy was born I cannot tell 
The warm low sun, the blossom on the wall, 
th life so new to us and all so well, 
And some lost word 1 never may recall. 
Like a dark pool that once did mjrror Spring, 
Or like a sealed shrine with a secret flame, 
Though boughs are barren now and no birds sing. 
1 know the joy 1 never may reclaim. 
