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I often have this strange and poignant dream
Of a lovely maiden who is sweet and dear;
A beautiful dame of yesteryear,
She kneels with reverence beside a stream.

And then in the night she comes to me,
In the moonlit mountains, tender, of the spring,
Which inspire songbirds in the trees to sing,
In a minor tone, near the fountains by the sea.


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I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
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Dreams have always been vivid influences on me.

I thought the first stanza flowed better than the second. The second had more meat to it, tho. Just IMHO.

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