The Enchanted Valleys   by William Sharp     By the Gate of Sleep we enter the Enchanted Valleys. White soundless birds fly near the twilit portals: Follow, and they lead to the Silent Alleys.   Grey pastures are there, and hush'd spell-bound woods, And still waters, girt with unwhispering reeds: Lost dreams linger there, wan multitudes.   They haunt the grey waters, the alleys dense and dim, The immemorial woods of timeless age, And where the forest leans on the grey sea's rim.   Nothing is there of gladness or sorrow: What is past can neither be glad nor sad: It is past: there is no dawn: no tomorrow.  

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  WILLIAM SHARP   POETRY PAGE