Oh, here! In dreams, methinks, I’ve traveled here:
I recognise this wood, its trees grown proud;
I’ve wandered often 'round this mirrored mere
All overshadowed with its veil of cloud.
I know this rise and falling of the land:
The long slow slope to join the silver shore.
I know it as I know my own right hand,
As though I’ve trod it many times before.
In looking, I have never found its kind,
But only by the purest happenstance
Have found the image long held in my mind
Is real and solid - oh, most happy chance,
That I should find in absent wandering
The home that I have long been pondering.