The dreamer absconds with his dream,
props his stone bride beside a stream,
where he washes, bathes, and gathers daisies.
These she refuses. He cannot please.
He runs, scampers, leaps and weeps,
He recites his verses; she keeps
her pure silence, her chaste repose. “What
do you want ?” he screams. “That
which you will not grant: to be, not seem
to be, to be the dreamer, not the dream.”