In the dreamy fields of the joy where spirits were not awakening, she left herself astray, and of the dull reality, herself disdain. Her brain dismay of a waking life where her very heartbeat shall be —mortal.

In its vivid colouring of night vision —dreams—has been for her the summer grass in the summer sky,
The stars shone in lofty autumn dusk—
The ethereal golden air of woodland elf's rill—
Herself a Queen, her slaves The North, and The South Stars...