My Valley

I recall a certain valley that lay secluded,
Guarded by two somber mountains-
Each a sentinel; a valley where it seemed
That happiness was caught and prisoned;
For the birds wrote with their wings
Graceful curves upon the blue sky,
And sprayed the air with their white notes,
Like little water sprays
That tinkled back into the day.
I recall such a valley, and how the sun
Seemed urged to climb those somber heights
And peep within, and how lothfully
He hung, reluctant to kiss the rim of earth
At the close of day; and how the moon,
With her white shroud wrapped about her,
Came coolly up, letting her white face shine
Upon the happiness, as though
She too was loth to touch.
That sacred spot still holds my soul
Which limps the day in tatters.
Oh, what would I not give to wend
Back up the mead and past the hillock,
And enter that valley by the primrosed path,
That I recall like a drearn-
Yet, o'ernear for dreaming!