I watched a while on a summer's day, Above the field in which I lay: The clouds take form and assume their place, And in one I saw a face. A face obscure and yet familiar. What name that face? Twas sweet Delia! For one brief moment I saw her peer; I felt a subtle grayness near. That shade of gray between dream and sleep, When thoughts we think, but do not keep. I watched a while and in conscious thought, The elusive dream at last I caught.