I would like to believe in unicorns
the swift form, silver as the moon,
shyly lurking in deep woodlands, seen by few
The horn like sparkling barley-sugar, the neat cloven hoof
and the dark unplumbable eye, speaking wisdom
from remotest ages.
Saying that romance and adventure live yet
and will return, in an enchanted world
undreamed of by science
Where visions can teach truth, and gods or demons
once more speak to men, and there is wild exaltation
or black terror
And reason will fall from its usurped throne
leaving faith and magic to point the way
incomprehensible and glorious.
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