Lakeside Dreaming

The balmy kiss of sun's retreat
Doth light still waters of the lake,
Where high above the falcon wheels -
In rhapsody does fancy shake.

O great Excalibur - now rise!
Let glitterin' hilt so brightly shine,
A glowing beacon in the sky -
So call to me - Arthur of mine...

And yet the cry, with crimson eye,
"I am not he, nor meant to be -"
Pygmalion - Paphos of clay -
Who does deceive what eye can see.

'Twas Arthur, he - yet Arthur not,
Reflections shake as lake quivers,
And high above the falcon wheels -
Her quest for lost Excalibur.

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