There was a voice

Speaking to me,

"Come. Come,"

My voice

There was a dream

She showed me pictures

Of the sun,

My dream.

I remember it redder,

Yellow depresses me,

Though you seem to like it;

Then I shall wear the sun

On my ankle (if he is not too heavy).

Light-lidded I am

When sleeping;

I watched the night

Shake the stardust

Out of her cloak

A few specks

Got under my lids

And stayed there;

Now blue-eyed, (I hope you like it),

I carry my own dust,

Heavy, heavy.