Phantasy

I do not care for the bright lights
Of the socialites,
But the bright glimmer of the stars
And the light of Mars.

I also want wind in my hair
And snow in the air,
On a bay palfrey riding fast
From the ancient past.

To sit with opals at my throat,
Sailing in a boat;
Diamond-gleam is in beauty hid,
Stars on my forehead.

Down the river to drift away,
Where the lilies sway
Amid the soothing of the breeze,
Mine heart giving ease.

All this wonder is not yet lost
Though winning be frost,
Wrapping with its hoary curls
This land of pearls.
                       2/3/9(?), 10, 15 December 2009, 31 January 2010