Poetry Archives

I just think that dreams are best,
     Just to sit and fancy things;
     Give your gold no acid test,
Try not how your silver rings;
Fancy women pure and good,
     Fancy men upright and true:
     Fortressed in your solitude,
Let Life be a dream to you.

For I think that Thought is all;
     Truth’s a minion of the mind;
     Love’s ideal comes at call;
As ye seek so shall ye find.
But ye must not seek too far;
     Things are never what they seem:
     Let a star be just a star,
And a woman—just a dream.

O you Dreamers, proud and pure,
     You have gleaned the sweet of life!
     Golden truths that shall endure
Over pain and doubt and strife.
     I would rather be a fool
          Living in my Paradise,
          Than the leader of a school,
     Sadly sane and weary wise.

     O you Cynics with your sneers,
          Fallen brains and hearts of brass,
          Tweak me by my foolish ears,
     Write me down a simple ass!
I’ll believe the real “you”
     Is the “you” without a taint;
     I’ll believe each woman too,
But a slightly damaged saint.

Yes, I’ll smoke my cigarette,
     Vestured in my garb of dreams,
     And I’ll borrow no regret;
All is gold that golden gleams.
So I’ll charm my solitude
     With the faith that Life is blest,
     Brave and noble, bright and good, . . .
     Oh, I think that dreams are best!