In a nebula of Thought,
By my table I am sitting,
Fairy visions round me flitting,
All refusing to be caught.

Now, a flash of charming eyes,
Now, some witchery of dress,
Or some hidden loveliness,
Comes and gleams and fades and dies.

And I wonder if this dream
Of lovely forms and angel eyes
Will not change and crystallize
To a joy that does not seem.

Softly swings the door ajar,
Tender voice my soul is waking,
And a kiss my dream is breaking,
Nebula has changed to star!