In the thickets of dreams
Reside the flowing of many streams,
Forests wherein trees bow to the breeze
As actions begin to freeze,
Even the sun shines at night,
The moon in broad daylight,
For food is the cloud
And the mountain goats are proud.
In the thickets of dreams,
Echoes endless screams
Resounding,
Reverberating,
From every stone wall;
Yea, gold towers sleep in a fall,
Even ghostly shapes spray gifts
Where familiar ones cause rifts.
In the thickets of dreams
Lay slopes and cliffs,
Sprites and nymphs,
Sheds and castles,
Fares and battles,
Paths and roads,
Even the giant toads;
But the cherub always conquers the imp,
And the angel, the demon.
For wonders never cease in dreamland,
And dreams begin in wonderland.
