Dust dulls the dew-white wonder of their
wings.
Yet one may linger loving the lost dream
The magic of the heart that cannot die...
Hmm.... thought there was something vaguely familiar here. The lines in the above do echo a bit Dante and Heaney's poem, A Dream of Solstice http://www.themodernantiquarian.com/forum/?thread=23046&message=259467 where they write -
Qual e' colui che somniando vede,
che dopo 'l sogno la passione impressa
rimane, e l'altro a la mente non riede,
cotal son io...
Dante, Paradiso, Canto XXXIII
'Like somebody who sees things when he's dreaming
And after the dream lives with the aftermath
Of what he felt, no other trace remaining,
So I live now', for what I saw departs
And is almost lost, although a distilled sweetness
Still drops from it into my inner heart...
Seamus Heaney: A Dream of Solstice
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