Dreamer
Were I poor, were I poor
My dream would be rich,
And make my bare room splendid
With its one niche.
But if I were rich — rich
My dream might be poor,
And not any pilgrim
Stand at my door.
I am neither rich nor poor,
I am of the throng
That gather at the laurelled door
Of another's song.
My dream would be rich,
And make my bare room splendid
With its one niche.
But if I were rich — rich
My dream might be poor,
And not any pilgrim
Stand at my door.
I am neither rich nor poor,
I am of the throng
That gather at the laurelled door
Of another's song.
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