The Sweet Old Dream

There’s nothing so sweet as the sweet old dream,

     The dream that never dies;

The sweet old dream of the glance and the gleam

     Of a pair of soft brown eyes.

There are dreams and dreams of many a kind,

     Dreams earthly and above;

But the dream that stays through the long, long days,

     Is the dream of a sweet old love.

And I dream and dream of the days agone,

     I live in dreams to-day;

I dream of a face of winsome grace,

     That chases dull care away.

O, dream if you wish of things to come,

     Of money, fame or bliss;

But the dreams I prize are of oft brown eyes,

     And of lips I used to kiss.

 Aug. 29, 1895

Pub. in “To Date”,

Early Nov. number,

   Chicago