I DREAMED YOUR FACE
I dreamed your face, one night, when Heaven seemed
resting,
Against the troubled fever of the earth;
I dreamed that vivid throated birds were nesting,
In trees that shook with elfin-hearted mirth.
I dreamed that star-like purple flowers were springing
A-throb with perfume all about the place,
And that there was a far-off sound of singing—
And then—I dreamed your face!
I dreamed your face, and then I waked from
dreaming,
(The creeping dawn seemed very cold and bare!)
The rising sun seemed pallid in its beaming,
Because its coming did not find you there!
And I—I rose despondent in the morning,
As one whose burning thirst has not been slaked;
I dreamed your face, a wonder world adorning,
And then—I waked.
And so I went upon a quest to find you,
A quest that led through many bitter years;
I journeyed far with strands of love to bind you,
And found, not you, but bitterness and tears—
So I returned, discouraged, through the gloaming,
My shoulders bowed with weariness unguessed;
I came back, unsuccessful, from my roaming—
My sorry quest!
I had a bit of garden that I tended,
It helped me dream, again, my dream of you—
It was a joyous place of colors blended—
A place where pansies and Sweet William grew.
And one bright day I hummed as I was planting
A border row of flowers slim and fair,
And raised my eyes to see pale sunlight slanting
Across your hair!
ANSWER
I am myself—you cannot take my dreams
And pull the filmy stuff of them apart!
I am myself—and life IS what it seems.
I am myself, and love is in my heart!
You cannot make me think by fast set rule,
You cannot laugh beliefs like mine away,
Experience MAY be a bitter school,
And yet.... The golden sun shines every day,
And stars at night lend magic to the sky,
And all the world is vividly a-glow,
You cannot make me pause to question why
For we who dare to dream have learned to know!
THE WORLD IS RIGHT! There is a friendly One
Who smiles when we have tried to do our part—
I will not flinch, my journey's just begun....
I AM MYSELF—YOU CANNOT BREAK MY HEART!
A BABY'S HANDS
God made the rivers, the hills, and the seas,
God made the flowers, the grass, and the trees;
God made the clouds, and the waves, silver-crested,
Then God made the hands of a baby—and rested!
How did He make them? Well, nobody knows—
Some say He dreamed of the bud of a rose,
And that He woke as the dawn swept away
Night in the dancing pink promise of day.
Maybe He thought of the light of a star,
(That's why He made them as soft as they are!)
Maybe He watched while a new butterfly,
Light as a sunbeam, went fluttering by.
Maybe He walked in a garden, dew-kissed,
That's why He made them as frail as the mist—
Then as He leaned from His heaven above,
God made them strong as His greatest gift—LOVE!
God made the mountains—we wonder at these—
God made the splendor of sunsets and trees;
God made vast mines where a world's wealth is piled,
Then God made the hands of a baby—and smiled!