Classic Poem

While the blue dawn-wind by us streams,
And clouds of evening move or mass,
We dwell in our Playhouse of Dreams,
Where visions gleam as in a glass.

The puppets pass, the puppets pair,
Acting in varied guise their parts,
With comic or with tragic air,
And all the old unchanging arts.

And though like wraiths they fade and flee,
Yet very real each actor seems,
For 'tis the play of Life we see
Dwelling in our Playhouse of Dreams!