Patrick Kavanagh

Untitled (Hilda, I have day-dreamed walking the streets)

Hilda, I have day-dreamed walking the streets
For years, and walking the fields I have filled the
Hours with happy imaginings. I have stood treats
To gods of fame who as I willed they
Gave me whatever I asked. But no dream, Hilda
Of mine was ever wild enough with 'dreams' conceits
To shape you as you are beautiful. I'd say
If ever such a vision had been born
Out of my dream: it was not fair of them
Who handed out the opiate so to lay
Grief upon my heart. In fields of corn
By lanes where no one knew me I have gone
Flaunting upon my lonely flowerless stem
Blossoms of love. But Hilda, she was the sun.
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