There are lightly moving rivers Like blue air, too delicately clear With liquid magic for breathing. There are gold towers sliding up The outer reaches of the ancient clouds. @3The world is too still a place . . . Too still@1 . . . I have a dream That my dreamless head cannot hold! And my dream is of a city riding high Along the upper reaches of radiance, Beyond the edges of the ancient darkness . . . And there is no other dark, There is no other city Where the little white ships Of the world come home. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LIKE A LAVEROCK IN THE LIFT by JEAN INGELOW TOMMY [ATKINS] by RUDYARD KIPLING ON THE INDESTRUCTIBILITY OF READING MATTER by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS CHARACTERS: SUSANNAH BARBAULD MARISSAL by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD MR. BARNEY MAGUIRE'S ACCOUNT OF THE CORONATION by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |