LYCANTHROPY

Somewhere dreams will be true.

        There is a lonely lake

Moonlit for me and you

        And like none for our sake.

There the dark white sail spread

        To a vague wind unfelt

Shall make our sleep‑life led

        Towards where the waters melt

Into the black‑tree'd shore,

        Where the unknown woods meet

The lake's wish to be more,

        And make the dream complete.

There we will hide and fade,

        Emptly moon‑bound all,

Feeling that what we are made

        Was something musical.