High in the whitest cloud of dreams, A dappled horse stirs in its sleep And I would ride him to my space, Where chirping crickets slip Between burned grasses, thinking:
How profoundly nature waits.
- Robert Bridges
High in the whitest cloud of dreams, A dappled horse stirs in its sleep And I would ride him to my space, Where chirping crickets slip Between burned grasses, thinking:
How profoundly nature waits.