Flowers and weeds that we plucked upon our pathway, we heap them in her lap, certain that even the poorest will not be tossed aside.

Small wonder that we bring as many as we may when she bends her head so lovingly to each.
As our past rises in reminiscence with all its oldtime reality, no less clearly does our future stand out to us in mirage.

What we would be seems as realizable as what we were.

Seen by another beside ourselves, our castles in the air take on something of the substance of stereoscopic sight.

Our airiest fancies seem solid facts for their reality to her, and gilded by lovelight, they glitter and sparkle like a true palace of the East.