My Sister’s Hand in Mine
by Jane Bowles

I dreamed I climbed upon a cliff,
My sister’s hand in mine.
Then searched the valley for my house,
But only sunny fields could see
And the church spire shining.

I searched until my heart was cold
But only sunny fields could see,
And the church spire shining.

A girl ran down the mountainside
with bluebells in her hat.
I asked the valley for her name.
But only wind and rain could hear.
And the church bell tolling
I asked until my lips were cold.
But wakened not yet knowing
If the name she bore was my sister’s name
or if it was my own.