In the garden of my dreams grew many dream‐blossoms. All the rarest flowers of my fancy bloomed there. Unopened buds of earthly hopes audaciously opened their petals to the fulfillment they anticipated, warmed by the light of my dreams. In that dim glow I spied the specters of beloved, long‐forgotten faces, ghosts of dear, dead feelings long buried in the soil of my mind, rising, all of them, in shining robes. I beheld all my past experiences resurrected by the trumpet‐call of my dream‐thoughts.
O King of all my dreams and of countless worlds in Thy garden of dream‐galaxies! Let me be a tiny star twinkling by Thy side as a beloved dream in Thy chamber of cosmic dreams. Or, if I be not a star‐bead strung on the garland of Thy dreams, then let me have the humblest place at the heart of all Thy dreams.
In the chamber of Thy heart shall I behold the making of all the noble dreams of life. O Master Weaver of Spells, teach me to make a many‐hued carpet of them for all to walk upon who love Thy pattern of dreams, as they travel to the temple of eternity beyond all dreams. Let me join worshipping choirs of angels and, with them, offer on Thy altar of Infinity a bouquet of all shining dreams of Thee.