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THE LIGHT OF DREAMS Emma Alice Browne










THE LIGHT OF DREAMS

Emma Alice Browne

Last night I walked in happy dreams,

The paths I used to know;

I heard a sound of running streams,

And saw the violets blow;

I breathed a scent of daffodils;

And faint and far withdrawn,

A light upon the distant hills,

Like morning, led me on.


And childish hands clung fast to mine,

And little pattering feet

Trod with me thro’ the still sunshine

Of by-ways green and sweet;

The flax-flower eyes of tender blue,

The locks of palest gold,

Were just the eyes and locks I knew

And loved, and lost—of old!


By many a green familiar lane

Our pathway seemed to run

Between long fields of waving grain,

And slopes of dew and sun;

And still we seemed to breathe alway

A scent of daffodils,

And that soft light of breaking day

Shone on the distant hills.


And out of slumber suddenly

I seemed to wake, and know

The little feet, that followed me,

Were ashes long ago!

And in a burst of rapturous tears

I clung to her and said:

“Dear Pitty-pat! The lonesome years

They told me you were dead!


“O, when the mother drew, of old,

About her loving knee

The little heads of dusk and gold,

I know that we were three!

And then there was an empty chair—

A stillness, strange and new:

We could not find you anywhere—

And we were only two!”


She pointed where serenely bright

The hills yet glowed afar:

“Sweet sister, yon ineffable light

Is but the gates ajar!

And evermore, by night and day,

We children still are three,

Tho’ I have gone a little way

To open the gates,” said she.


Then all in colors faint and fine

The morning round me shone,

The little hands slipt out of mine,

And I was left alone;

But still I smelled the daffodils,

I heard the running streams;

And that far glory on the hills—

Was it the light of dreams?