DREAMS Beyond, beyond the mountain line, The grey-stone and the boulder, Beyond the growth of dark green pine, That crowns its western shoulder, There lies that fairy-land of mine, Unseen of a beholder. Its fruits are all like rubies rare; Its streams are clear as glasses; There golden castles hang in air, And purple grapes in masses, And noble knights and ladies fair Come riding down the passes. Ah me! they say if I could stand Upon those mountain ledges, I should but see on either hand Plain fields and dusty hedges; And yet I know my fairy-land Lies somewhere o'er their edges. -- Cecil Frances Alexander (1820?-1895)