Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE DREAMER, by HUGH FRANCIS BLUNT



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THE DREAMER, by            
First Line: He made but dreams; for this they laughed him down
Last Line: God's tax of death on earth-idolatry.
Subject(s): Dreams; Nightmares


He made but dreams; for this they laughed him down,
Those praters of Efficiency, who wrought
The more substantial things (or thus they thought)
That merited a place of sure renown.
He never made a shoe, a suit, a gown;
He paid no taxes on a house and lot;
He never sold a thing and rarely bought;
He was the Non-Producer of the town.

He made but dreams; such inefficient things!
And they who bought and sold and toiled and played
Could never guess the joke Eternity
Had played on them; for still the Dreamer sings
Long centuries since his deriders paid
God's tax of death on earth-idolatry.





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