The Dreamer

He was unequal to the strife —
Freely he owns and feels no shame —
So from the battle-line of life
Idling along the fields he came.

A green-banked stream in summer-time —
A lonely place along the shore —
A flowery mountain-side to climb —
Give either, and he asks no more.

He laughs with others at the clown
That bears his name — the counterfeit —
While from the clouds his soul looks down
Impatiently and calls to it.
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