Taking tea on my twenty-first birthday, Part 1

On the morning of my twenty-first birthday I awoke to find myself in the place which had occupied my daydreams for as long as I could remember. It was nearly mid-April and the streams of Spring were coursing once again through the countryside of Stratford, a world alive with so many English beauties and wonders that I could scarcely begin to apprehend them all . I walked in a waking dream, so it seemed then and still seems, along cobbled streets which ran to and from the river Avon. Here and there pairs of swans like kings and queens were gliding upon the silvered water as the sun streamed from sapphire skies. I watched the clouds collide and pass each other, blown by strong and silent winds aloft; and soon there began to fall the tiniest of snowflakes, like the laughter of children from a distance. There I stood in the center of the loveliest snow globe I had ever seen as the scenes unfolded before me.