A DREAM OR NO

Why go to Saint-Juliot? What's Juliot to me?

I was but made fancy

By some necromancy

That much of my life claims the spot as its key.

Yes. I have had dreams of that place in the West,

And a maiden abiding

Thereat as in hiding;

Fair-eyed and white-shouldered, broad-browed and brown-tressed.

And of how, coastward bound on a night long ago,

There lonely I found her,

The sea-birds around her,

And other than nigh things uncaring to know.

So sweet her life there ( in my thought has it seemed )

That quickly she drew me

To take her unto me,

And lodge her long years with me. Such have I dreamed.

But nought of that maid from Saint-Juliot I see;

Can she ever have been here,

And shed her life's sheen here,

The woman I thought a long housemate with me?

Does there even a place like Saint-Juliot exist?

Or a Vallency Valley

With stream and leafed alley,

Or Beeny, or Bos with its flounce flinging mist?