Dream Blocks

You can find the most wonderful virtual treasure on Project Gutenberg. Take for example, the treat I have for you, this morning: Dream Blocks: a collection of children’s poems by Aileen Cleveland Higgins, with illustrations by the Brocante favorite, Jesse Willcox Smith…

WITH dream-blocks I can build
A castle to the sky.
No one can shake it down,
Though he may try and try,
Except myself, and then,
I make another one,
And shape it as I please.
This castle-building fun
Nobody takes away,
And what I like the best–
The dream-blocks change each day.

WHEN I woke up and saw the rain
In blurs upon the window-pane,
I said I hated such a day,
Because I couldn’t run and play,
Out in the sunshine and the grass.
It’s queer how such a day can pass
So soon, before you know it ‘most,
And while I eat my milk and toast,
Before I go to bed, I think
I’ve never had a day so pink.
Without the sun to make the shine,
This whole day long has been just mine
And Mother’s, in the fireplace glow.–
Because it rained, it made it so.

THE dainty frills upon my frocks
Make me all twinkly smiles inside.
I want to take my sweets around,–
A something in me says “Divide.”

I run to give my mother dear
My nicest, clean-face kiss.
I feed the sparrows on the steps,
And think what others miss.

I put some water on my fern;
To every one I want to say
Nice velvet things. It is so queer
That we can dress our moods away!

YOU think my home is up the street
In that big house with lots of steps,
All worn in places by our feet–
With tracks that look like mine and Jep’s.

You think it’s where I always eat,
Where I can find my spoon and bowl,
My napkin folded clean and neat,
And milk, and sometimes jelly-roll.

You think it’s where I always sleep,
Where I get in my puffy bed,
And fall right in a comfy heap,
Some nights before my prayers are said.

But that’s not home–just roof and walls,
A place that anybody buys,
With shiny floors and stairs and halls.–
My home is in my mother’s eyes.

DEAR God, may I not dream
The Dragon-dream tonight,–
And please do not forget
To make it light
On time again
For me. Amen.

I TAKE my broom and sweep my step,
To make it smooth and brown;
Then I sit down and wait with Jep
Until the sun goes down.

I think some day that I may see
A little brownie elf
Peep out of there, and speak to me,
When I am by myself.

I like my roses at the side,
Much better than the flower-row
Along your path where people ride.
I leave my roses just to grow.

I like the place that’s broken, too,
With splintered edges all around,
And grasses growing right up through,
That smell so fresh like dew and ground.

Your steps are nice, but then my own
Seem nicer somehow, just for me;
Pine steps are more like home than stone,
For once they lived and were a tree.

Happy Friday Housekeepers.x

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