To John Russell Hayes <br /> <br />KNOW a household made of pure delight, <br />That sits within a garden of quietness: <br />A welcomed visitor by day or night, <br />I win a refuge from life's storm and stress. <br />Ah, here no footfalls cease and then resume, <br />Nor sounds of closing doors nor creaking beams; <br />And throned within her favorite gold room <br />Amid the roses' perfume and the gloom, <br />I greet my smiling hostess, Madame of Dreams. <br /> <br />I know not how I won so dear a friend, <br />I know not of her family or her race; <br />Her voice is a sweet music without end <br />Unfolding the wistful beauty of her face. <br />She has known all the world s great tragedies --- <br />Was at the ruins of Troy and Actium; <br />And her deep heart holds many memories <br />That are the ghosts of countless aching sighs <br />Dead lovers uttered ere their lips grew dumb. <br /> <br />She seems so old from her experience --- <br />With Egypt's queen she sailed along the Nile --- <br />She heard Demosthenes great eloquence --- <br />Saw Camelot melt 'neath Arthur s golden smile. <br />But Time has dealt with her as with the sea, <br />Whereon it leaves not any scars nor seams; <br />And like a bud that breaks at last to be <br />A faultless rose June s dews and suns decree --- <br />Beauty and Youth have crowned Madame of <br />Dreams.<br /><br />William Stanley Braithwaite<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/madame-of-dreams/
