Poetry of Kansas
 

The Dream Is Dying.

The Dream Is Dying
 
There came a tumult at the quiet
        door
A voice cut through the mellow mid-
        night crying___
"The Dream is dying !"
 
The dream that kindled fire in the
        sun,
And wrought fair cities of the mist
        and dew,
Painted the mountain peaks against
        the blue,
And lit the stars of heaven one by
        one.
 
The desert's luring images are
        gone,
There is no music but the bell's lone
        toll,
Joy, grief and longing from hence-
        forth are one,
The heavens are rolled together as
        a scroll,
The dream is dying.

__Elizabeth N. Barr.

The High Winds of Home
Elizabeth N. Barr
(Olathe: privately published. 1922)
Page 46

 
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November 28, 2002 / John & Susan Howell / Wichita, Kansas / howell@kotn.org

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