H. Thompson Rich

I WOULD send these dreams of yours and mine re-borning;

I would send our love out to seek noble flight—

Over the interminable mountains of the morning,

Over the endless oceans of the night.

I would put the lightness of it into laughter,

I would put the sorrow of it into song—

That should go echoing on for ages after,

That should make glad the world whole aeons long.

I would tell in deathless paint the glory of it;

I would tell in immutable stone its majesty—

To halo it and hold a light above it,

To temper it with immortality.

I would spin it to the heavens, span on span …

Were I but—oh, a little more than man!