O'er seas that have no beaches To end their waves upon, I floated with twelve peaches, A sofa and a swan.

I saw all of a sudden No sign of any ship.

Each day I live in a glass room Unless I break it with the thrusting Of my senses and pass through The splintered walls to the great landscape.

It's not their fault if, in the heat Of their transactions, I repeat It's not their fault if vampires meet And gurgle in their spats.

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night Sailed off in a wooden shoe- Sailed on a river of crystal light, Into a sea of dew.

Duluth! The word fell upon my ear with a peculiar and indescribable charm, like the gentle murmur of a low fountain stealing forth in the midst of roses, or th…

They tell me every day is there Not more nor less than Sunday gay; In shining robes and garments fair The people walk upon their way. One gazes there on castle…