In dreams I often wander / through fields of gleaming flowers, / White as snow - / Where dear forgotten faces / reflect the soft white snow. / I weave a child's garlands / for those I loved long since, / Friends like you - / And from the fragrant blossoms / crush drops of heavenly dew. / Waking, I cannot name them / though I know I'll seek and find them / Far or near - / For of late I sense their perfume / in the evening air. / So I'll put my house in order, / softly close the door, / And then I'll go - / to gather dream-filled flowers, / white and still as snow.

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