Valley of Imaginings

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Valley of Imaginings

Upon my field of fantasies,
all green and gold and white,
glimpses only of sweet creatures
are seen in soft twilight.

Above the nearly sleeping world,
a star is shining soft.
A wing-tip darts beside my eyes,
a faery flies aloft.

Upon the rolling, blooming plains,
a noble centaur runs.
He is most ancient and most wise
and, galloping, seems to drum.

Through a secret, winding valley,
a river runs to sea,
where prism people make their homes
to revel and feast with glee.

Within this twilit world of fancy,
a wood grows near the stream.
I see a movement in the trees,
and nymphs begin to sing.

Among these ferns and spritely trees,
with pointed caps and beards,
they walk and whistle jaunty tunes,
for gnomes are not a-feared.

Along the hidden, moonlit path,
delicate hooves do tread.
With purple horn and kindly eyes
a unicorn seeks his bed.

Upon my field of fantasies
a castle rests by sea.
A noble King with flowing beard
Rules humbly, kind, and wise.

I found the picture here. I don’t know who the artist is.

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