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!