HE goes out with his Dreams
Through the dingy city square,
Purple- and silver-winged
They go with him everywhere.

The quarreling hags at the windows
Have voices unkind, unsweet,
But his Dreams have silver voices
And starrily-slippered feet;

The workmen push on the pavement
And laugh and curse as they go,
But he is far with his Dreams
On a road they do not know;

He walks far off with the Dreams
That whisper and sing beside
And his face is glad and still
And his eyes are burning-wide;

He goes out with his Dreams
Through a golden wonder-place
With the light of God in his eyes
And the peace of God in his face.