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EMPTY, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Oh, little house of pleasant dreams
Last Line: Whose dreams are flown.
Subject(s): Religion; Theology

Oh Little House of Pleasant Dreams,
The dreams are fled
And you are but four empty walls
Whose soul is dead.
The garden that was magic soil
Is common loam,
And there is nothing but a house
Which was a Home.

Still through your windows shines the sun
And breathes the air,
The quaint old rugs and furniture
Unchanged, are there;
Yet they seem bathed in ghostly light
Chill, pale and wan,
For there's no warmth in any house
Whose dreams are gone.

Love touched you with its rosy glow
By night and day
But love with clipped and wounded wings
Has limped away,
And leaves a shelter—nothing more—
Of wood and stone.
A Little House of Pleasant Dreams
Whose dreams are flown.

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