So when to sleep – where does my spirit go?
To what far distant plains – what place explores?
Its ghostly steps doth tread the liquid air
To walk on ground more solid than this earth.
My spirit brings me back – sometimes – a gift:
A dream, a vision, or a prophecy
To open up the future. Or the past.
Revealing things that I could never know
Nor yet perceive myself: even if I’d tried
For twice one thousand years by mortal strength.