In my dream the maiden runs

In my dreams the maiden runs
along the river past the barge.
Her silver locks stream out behind,
her flowing silken garments charge
the air with fire bright

Ethereal robes of gossamer
they are not blue nor gold nor wheat
nor white nor grey nor well defined
but change and merge and bathe me with
their precious vivid light

And as she flows along the path
her diamond eyes pierce out the way
to search her road unfalteringly
she flies through shadows night and day
pale sun and bright moon-white

There is no woman on that hill
alone my future I must find
and so her image I create
within my dreams and in my mind
to ease me through the night