Katherine Merritte Snyder Yates, On the Hill-top (1919)
“ The Dream sat still, waiting quietly. After a while Marjorie sat up again and leaned over to touch softly a long half-curled fern frond that had bent down until it just skimmed the water and was making a tiny riffle every time that the breeze stirred it; and then she dabbled her fingers in the ripples, and then sent a long brown boat-shaped leaf down the splashing fall, to be tossed off into the smooth pool and then sail away down the stream. ”
