Shot high across the night,
I'd rather burst in silver stars
Than green or purple light;

For then, perhaps, I'd fool the moon,
Although she's very wise,
And thinking me a baby star
She'd keep me in the skies.



Dreams


I'd like to dream my own dreams,
Instead of dreaming those
The silly sandman brings along
Like moving picture shows.

I'd like to dream of palaces,
Of magic meadowlands,
Of silver gates and golden thrones
And chanting fairy bands;

Of seas of spraying jewels,
Of dancing crystal ships,
Of the queen of all the elves herself--
Two rubies for her lips;

But, alas! I never dream such things,