The winds come to me from the fields of sleep...

The dream...

And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A being breathing thoughtful breath;
A traveler betwixt life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect woman; nobody planned,
To warm, to comfort, and command;
And yet a spirit still, and bright
With something of an angle light.