I wandered in a dream
And heard bluebells chime by the water,
Saw unicorns drink from the stream
And heard wild, whirling elvish laughter.

I realized things are not what they seem,
That little boys worship the river's daughter,
That angels grunt and butterflies scream
While good men go like lambs to the slaughter.

It was only a silly dream
But it has haunted me ever after,
When lights burn low and candles gleam,
When graveyards groan and their corpses mutter.

John Thorkild Ellison

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-fantasy-7/