The Old Road to Paradise/Dream-House

by Margaret Widdemer

DREAM-HOUSE

(For Anna Hempstead Branch)

I went to the house of the Lady of Dreams
 For a dream to carry away
That should ferry me over the blackest streams
 I had to cross by day;

For comforting dreams from her small white hands
 Rise up like butterflies,
And dreams like the lakes in old fairylands
 Lie back of her shining eyes,

And gold-riddled dreams like tapestries
 Cling painted along her walls
And yellow bird-dreams from shadow-trees
 Come fluttering when she calls;

And all of the day-dark when she spoke
 Was shattered and rainbow-hung,
And she gave me a dream like a scarlet cloak
 And a dream like a wreath rose-strung . . .

But I went from the house of the Lady of Dreams
 And my packet of dreams blew wide,
And only a red-rose cloud in streams
 Swung torn in the west outside!