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Poems (Kennedy)/Stuff of Dreams

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4590469Poems — Stuff of DreamsSara Beaumont Kennedy
THE "STUFF" OF DREAMS
WHAT is the "stuff" of which our dreams are made?
  So sang the poet years ago.
        Come they
Through opening of a book closed some long while—
A face glimpsed in a crowd—a smile
That lit the world one rose-hued mile?
  Are these the forces that our slumbers know,
  These tender glimpses of the past?
        Yea, these;
And likewise salmon salad, shrimps and cheese!

Whence are they born, those visions that enthrall
  Our senses through the moon-white hours?
        Drift they
On snatch of song that waked a memory strain
Of lips that kissed and sang again
And hands whose touch was rapture's pain?
  Are these the mystic, unseen powers
  That build our dreams from nothingness?
        No doubt:
And likewise hot tamales and sauer kraut!