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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41945 ***
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original lovely illustrations.
+      See 41945-h.htm or 41945-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/41945/41945-h/41945-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/41945/41945-h.zip)
+
+
+      Images of the original pages are available through
+      Internet Archive/American Libraries. See
+      http://archive.org/details/dreamblocks00higg
+
+
+
+
+
+DREAM BLOCKS
+
+by
+
+AILEEN CLEVELAND HIGGINS
+
+[Illustration]
+
+Pictures by Jessie Willcox Smith
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Duffield & Company
+New York
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+                         Page
+    Dream Blocks           1
+    Stupid You             2
+    Anagrams               3
+    Doorsteps              4
+    The Big Clock          6
+    The New Dress          7
+    A Questioning          9
+    A Test                 9
+    A Quandary            10
+    Spring Music          11
+    A Compromise          13
+    A Rainy Day           14
+    An Appeal to Science  15
+    The Runaway           17
+    Playmates             19
+    The Echo              21
+    The Sick Rose         22
+    Afternoon             23
+    The Wild              24
+    Bud Music             25
+    Frills                26
+    Gone Somewhere        27
+    The Chosen Dream      29
+    Home                  30
+    Dawn                  31
+    The City Tree         32
+    A Prayer              34
+    Cap and Bells         35
+    Summer's Passing      38
+    When You Wait         39
+    Punishment            40
+    First Pity            40
+    Night                 41
+    Hover-Time            42
+    Treasure Craft        43
+    The Moon Path         45
+    The Ring Charm        45
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+                      Facing Page
+    Title Page            ii
+    Dream Blocks           1
+    Stupid You             2
+    Doorsteps              4
+    The Big Clock          6
+    A Quandary            10
+    A Rainy Day           14
+    The Runaway           18
+    The Sick Rose         22
+    Frills                26
+    Home                  30
+    A Prayer              34
+    Summer's Passing      38
+    Punishment            40
+    Treasure Craft        44
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+Copyright 1908 by
+Duffield & Company
+
+Engravings by the Beck Engraving Co.
+
+Presswork by S. H. Burbank & Co.
+Philadelphia
+
+
+
+
+DREAM BLOCKS
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: Copyright, 1908, by Duffield & Co.]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+DREAM-BLOCKS
+
+
+    WITH dream-blocks I can build
+      A castle to the sky.
+    No one can shake it down,
+      Though he may try and try,
+    Except myself, and then,
+      I make another one,
+    And shape it as I please.
+    This castle-building fun
+      Nobody takes away,
+    And what I like the best--
+      The dream-blocks change each day.
+
+
+
+
+STUPID YOU
+
+
+    THERE is a shining thread
+    To-day in my rose-bed--
+    A magic net the fairies have outspread
+    To catch the dewy sweet--and yet you said
+    It was a cobweb there instead!
+
+[Illustration: Copyright, 1908, by Duffield & Co.]
+
+
+
+
+ANAGRAMS
+
+
+    TO-DAY when I played anagrams,
+      I spelled a long word out--
+    A word named _sorrow_--then I tried
+      To change it all about
+    To make it spell another word.
+      My mother said, "There is a way
+    To make the sorrow-word spell peace."
+      I've tried and tried, almost all day;
+    I've turned the letters round and round,
+      This way and that, to find out how,
+    And yet I can not find the way,
+      And supper time is coming now.
+
+
+
+
+DOORSTEPS
+
+
+    I TAKE my broom and sweep my step,
+      To make it smooth and brown;
+    Then I sit down and wait with Jep
+      Until the sun goes down.
+
+    I think some day that I may see
+      A little brownie elf
+    Peep out of there, and speak to me,
+      When I am by myself.
+
+    I like my roses at the side,
+      Much better than the flower-row
+    Along your path where people ride.
+      I leave my roses just to grow.
+
+    I like the place that's broken, too,
+      With splintered edges all around,
+    And grasses growing right up through,
+      That smell so fresh like dew and ground.
+
+    Your steps are nice, but then my own
+      Seem nicer somehow, just for me;
+    Pine steps are more like home than stone,
+      For once they lived and were a tree.
+
+[Illustration: Copyright, 1908, by Duffield and Co.]
+
+
+
+
+THE BIG CLOCK
+
+
+    OUR Big Clock goes so slow,
+      When I am waiting on the stairs,
+    With nice, clean clothes on, dressed to go
+      Out with Aunt Beth to see the bears
+    And funny possums at the Zoo!
+      But oh, at night how fast
+    Our Big Clock goes! It's very rude
+      To company, and when time's past
+    When I must always go to bed,
+      The hands just fly in wicked glee.
+    It strikes out long ahead
+      And makes them all look round at me.
+
+[Illustration: Copyright, 1908, by Duffield and Co.]
+
+
+
+
+THE NEW DRESS
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+    I HAVE a very pretty dress,
+      It's made of pink and white,
+    And there are ribbons on it, too,
+      Which make it bright.
+
+    And yet I think I like it less
+      Than this dear other one--
+    The worn-out, patched-up blue
+      I wear when I have fun.
+
+    It clings to me as if it loved
+      To have me wear it every day.
+    The pink stands out so straight and stiff
+      It's in my way.
+
+    How can I get to know it well,
+      When it's so _Sunday_-clean?
+    Perhaps when it is old and stained
+      With dust and grass, it will not seem
+    So strange and dignified as now.
+      But then I think
+    I never _could_ make mud pies right
+      If I had on my pink.
+
+
+
+
+A QUESTIONING
+
+
+    I WONDER, when I die,
+    If some one there will see,
+      And hold me close,
+    And take good care of me,
+    As when I came on earth to be
+      A little child?
+
+
+
+
+A TEST
+
+
+    SOME day when I've had lots to eat,
+      Then I should like to be
+    A ragged beggar child,
+      A little while, to see
+    If you--and _you_--are kind.
+
+
+
+
+A QUANDARY
+
+
+    WHEN they are tall and all grown up,
+      I wonder where the children go?
+    I wonder how one finds the place--
+      My mother says she doesn't know.
+
+    The little boy that's I, must go
+      To this strange meeting-place some day,
+    When I outgrow my starchy kilts,
+      And nursery things are put away.
+
+    Must I go there quite by myself?
+      How shall I find the proper door,
+    That hides so close and shuts away
+      The little children gone before?
+
+[Illustration: Copyright, 1908, by Duffield and Co.]
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+SPRING MUSIC
+
+
+    I HEARD a violin one day--
+      It sounded like the Spring;
+    Like woolly lambs at play,
+      Like baby birds that sing
+    In snatches, when they're learning how.
+      I know the one who played
+    Could see pink blossoms on a bough,
+      Where children came beneath its shade
+    To make white clover in a crown.
+      Then while they laughed there in the grass,
+    Soft petals fluttered down;
+      They hushed and saw some angels pass,
+    With friendly eyes that smile--
+      The kind that I have often seen
+    When mother sings awhile,
+      Just as I go to sleep and dream.
+
+    I held my breath and then there rose
+      The last sweet note so high.
+    I felt as when the sunshine goes--
+      I could not help but cry.
+
+
+
+
+A COMPROMISE
+
+
+    WHEN I have done a Something Wrong,
+      I feel ashamed to kneel and pray.
+    But then the dark-time lasts so long,
+      And God seems--oh, so far away!--
+    That when the lights are out awhile,
+      I clamber out of bed once more
+    And pour my pennies in a pile.
+    ... I listen at the door,
+      And then I get upon my knees,
+    And whisper just for God to hear,
+      To ask him, oh, just once more, _please_,
+    Will he forgive and come back near,
+      If I will make a promise _quick_
+    To give my pennies to the sick?
+
+
+
+
+A RAINY DAY
+
+
+    WHEN I woke up and saw the rain
+    In blurs upon the window-pane,
+    I said I hated such a day,
+    Because I couldn't run and play,
+    Out in the sunshine and the grass.
+    It's queer how such a day can pass
+    So soon, before you know it 'most,
+    And while I eat my milk and toast,
+    Before I go to bed, I think
+    I've never had a day so _pink_.
+    Without the sun to make the shine,
+    This whole day long has been just mine
+    And Mother's, in the fireplace glow.--
+    Because it rained, it made it so.
+
+[Illustration: Copyright, 1908, by Duffield and Co.]
+
+
+
+
+AN APPEAL TO SCIENCE
+
+
+    I WISH the clever men who made
+      The whirly things with patents on,
+    The telephone and phonograph,
+      The watch that tells how far you've gone,
+    Would just invent some bottled sleep
+      That we could take at night,
+      And then again when it grows light.
+    It might keep little boys awake
+      When there is company.
+      All I should have to do, would be
+    To pour a glass of sleep to take.
+
+    The things I leave undone,
+      Because I haven't time enough,
+    The things I've only half begun--
+      My castle-house, my doll-queen's ruff--
+    I'd get quite finished in a day.
+      I'd have some time left over, too.
+    I'd have the chance to do new things.
+      And first of all, I'd learn to play
+    The games the flowers frolic through,
+    Each afternoon, and I'd find who
+      Has charge of yesterday.
+
+    I think that made-to-order dreams
+    Of rainbow-folk and orange-creams
+    Would be much nicer than the kind
+    Which on dark nights I always find.
+
+
+
+
+THE RUNAWAY
+
+
+    THERE'S something that is calling me--
+      Far off from Here--
+    It calls for me to come and see,
+      Away from Near.
+
+    Sometimes it tinkles like a bell.
+      Then echo songs above the blue,
+    And sometimes silver whistles tell
+      About a shining dream come true.
+    This call sings low of wonder-worlds.
+      It tells in runs and soft-blown trills
+    Of hidden places near that line
+      Where distance smooths the little hills.
+
+    The call is begging me to come.
+      It makes me dance and sing
+    Along the meadow road,
+      Far past the street's dust-ring.
+
+    There's something waiting just for me,
+      And I must go--_must go_,
+    Away from houses here, to see,
+      Where lights begin to glow.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+PLAYMATES
+
+
+    TO-DAY I met a rabbit in the path
+      Who stopped and looked at me,
+      While I was laughing at a frog
+    Hop sidewise from a bee.
+
+    The little rabbit's eyes laughed too.
+      He would have like to stay;
+    And if my clothes had been like his,
+      He might have come to play.
+
+    I wish I had a rabbit dress,
+      A furry one, from head to toe,
+    Then I could go away with him
+      From streets in line, all set just so.
+
+    I think my clothes are stupid things
+      To rob me of my friends,
+    But then, the kind of playmate clothes
+      I want, nobody lends!
+
+
+
+
+THE ECHO
+
+
+    I LAUGHED in woods down where a brook
+      Ran off with little leaps,
+    An answer came from some fern-nook,
+    And then another made me look
+      Off in the dark tree-deeps.
+
+    I ran to all the nooks to see
+      If I could find the one
+    Who heard me first, and answered me--
+    Each place was still as it could be,
+      As far as I could run.
+
+    Nurse said, "There's no one to be caught.
+      It's just the echo's glee."
+    But then I know that it was _not_!
+    The little wood-elves all forgot,
+      And laughed out loud with me.
+
+
+
+
+THE SICK ROSE
+
+
+    THIS rose I picked, began to die,
+      And so, I've brought it back again
+    To where it used to live. I'll try
+      To make it as it was--and then,
+    I'll whisper to it how I care.
+      Why _can't_ it grow now any more,
+    A rose with other roses there,
+      Upon the rosebush by the door?
+
+[Illustration: Copyright, 1908, by Duffield and Co.]
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+AFTERNOON
+
+
+    JUST since the night, the wind has won
+      The last pink bud to open bloom.
+    The long path whitens in the sun;
+      All grown folks hunt a darkened room.
+    Cool sweet of morning time is gone
+      From all the leaves and grass.
+    Here in this place the shade falls on,
+      I wait for butterflies to pass.
+
+
+
+
+THE WILD
+
+
+    I LOVE the gold-brown flutter-bird
+      You caught for me;
+    But from its song is gone a note I heard
+      When it was free.
+
+    And when I bring the lace-ferns home
+      I can not bring
+    The wood-charm too--the spell of that wee gnome
+      Which makes birds sing.
+
+    The trees you painted with your brush
+      Are like the real,
+    But that still harking of the soft leaf-hush
+      You could not steal.
+
+    It is the spirit of the wold--the same
+      That's part of me,--
+    The gipsy wild of me without a name,
+      Unhoused and free.
+
+
+
+
+BUD MUSIC
+
+
+    I KNOW when little buds come out,
+      And spread their colors all about,
+    They make soft music--Yet it's true
+      Most people never hear. Do you?
+
+    There is the faintest, tinkly sound.
+      Birds fly to listen all around,
+    Then all the leaves stand just as still,
+      And sunshine dances on the hill.
+
+
+
+
+FRILLS
+
+
+    THE dainty frills upon my frocks
+      Make me all twinkly smiles inside.
+    I want to take my sweets around,--
+      A something in me says "Divide."
+
+    I run to give my mother dear
+      My nicest, clean-face kiss.
+    I feed the sparrows on the steps,
+      And think what others miss.
+
+    I put some water on my fern;
+      To every one I want to say
+    Nice _velvet_ things. It is so queer
+      That we can dress our moods away!
+
+[Illustration: Copyright, 1908, by Duffield and Co.]
+
+
+
+
+GONE SOMEWHERE
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+    ONE day a little boy,
+    With a poor broken toy,
+    And ragged clothes, went by.
+    He looked as if he'd like to cry,
+    To see my soldiers fine,
+    In scarlet coats, so straight in line.
+
+    Would he have liked to play with me,
+    Here beneath my shady tree?
+    I wonder, but I did not call him back again.
+    I thought he'd come next day the same,
+    And I would ask him in to play,
+    And when he had to go away
+    Give him my nicest toys--
+    The drum that makes the loudest noise,
+    My whistle, and perhaps my sword,
+    Or even my soldier hat with braids and cord.
+
+    But though I watch here by the gate
+    Until it grows quite dark and late,
+    I never hear his footsteps there,
+    The little boy is gone somewhere.
+
+
+
+
+THE CHOSEN DREAM
+
+
+    IF I could choose a dream to-night,
+      I'd choose a splendid dream
+    About big soldiers in a fight,--
+      So real that it would seem
+    A truly one not in a book,
+      With flags and banners waving high
+    And horses with a prancing look
+      And powder smoke that filled the sky,
+    And lots of swords to flash.
+      Perhaps this dream would frighten me,
+    More than a noisy game,
+      If too much blood should splash,
+    And any soldiers die.
+      And yet I think I'd choose it just the same
+    And then wake up and cry.
+
+
+
+
+HOME
+
+
+    YOU think my home is up the street
+      In that big house with lots of steps,
+    All worn in places by our feet--
+      With tracks that look like mine and Jep's.
+
+    You think it's where I always eat,
+      Where I can find my spoon and bowl,
+    My napkin folded clean and neat,
+      And milk, and sometimes jelly-roll.
+
+    You think it's where I always sleep,
+      Where I get in my puffy bed,
+    And fall right in a comfy heap,
+      Some nights before my prayers are said.
+
+    But that's not home--just roof and walls,
+      A place that anybody buys,
+    With shiny floors and stairs and halls.--
+      _My_ home is in my mother's eyes.
+
+[Illustration: Copyright, 1908, by Duffield and Co.]
+
+
+
+
+DAWN
+
+
+    THERE are no sounds of feet
+    Or wagons in the street,
+    So still, so beautiful,
+    With air so fresh and cool.
+    I love the dawn to come--
+    But oh, I know that some
+    Are not so glad as I,--
+    For they must wake to cry.
+
+
+
+
+THE CITY TREE
+
+
+    A SOLEMN, dressed-up City Tree,
+    As stiff and straight as it can be,
+    All cut and trimmed and kept just so,
+    Is trying very hard to grow
+    Correctly, with its top so queer,
+    In front of my big window here.
+
+    It is not like my Country Tree,
+    Good friend of every bird and bee,
+    Who keep it merry company
+    And always sing and talk to me.
+    My Country Tree laughs all day long.
+    Its fresh leaves whisper in a song
+    Their secrets just for me to hear.
+    Its branches lean so very near
+    The ground, that grasses stretch and try
+    To meet the boughs not swung too high.
+    There is the place, the very best
+    In all the world, to play and rest.
+
+    The City Tree stands all alone
+    Above the clean-swept pavement stone.
+    No little children ever stay
+    Beneath its trimmed-off shade to play--
+    They aren't brave enough to dare,
+    Because it is so proper there.
+    There are no lady-birds about;
+    No crickets frolic in and out.
+    The City Tree is very proud,
+    It hasn't even looked or bowed.
+    We're not at all acquainted yet--
+    It's just as if we'd never met.
+
+    The days seem long--I wonder when
+    I'll see my country tree again?
+
+
+
+
+A PRAYER
+
+
+    DEAR God, may I _not_ dream
+    The Dragon-dream to-night,--
+    And please do not forget
+    To make it light
+    On time again
+    For me. Amen.
+
+[Illustration: Copyright, 1908, by Duffield and Co.]
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+CAP AND BELLS
+
+
+    THEY make me laugh and clap my hands
+      When they run out in wide striped clothes
+    Of white, with red and yellow bands,
+      With pointed caps and pointed toes,--
+      The "funny men" at circus shows.
+
+    I wish I knew just how a clown
+      Can make his mouth up in a smile,
+    And wrinkle in a crinkly frown
+      His forehead all the while,
+      In that queer circus style.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    One day when I had cried and cried
+      Because I lost the picture book
+    Which I had made, and mother tried
+      To comfort me, we went and took
+      A walk, to see how clown men look.
+
+    I soon forgot my book, and though
+      I loved it just the same,
+    I couldn't cry and miss it so,
+      And think about each picture's name
+      When all the clown men came.
+
+    [Illustration]
+
+    I think we ought to say our thanks,
+      To each of them who makes and sells
+    Such fun and jokes, such jigs and pranks,--
+      How dull we'd be without the spells
+      They make with cap and bells!
+
+
+
+
+SUMMER'S PASSING
+
+
+    MY mother says that Summer's gone away.
+      It seems so queer I didn't see her go,
+    Or know till now; she didn't say good-bye--
+      And oh, I loved her so!
+
+    Now that I know, I miss her all the time.
+      To-day I found this piece torn from her gown.
+    It fluttered softly down the path to me.
+      Perhaps my nurse would call it thistledown,
+    But grown folks often make such strange mistakes.
+      Nobody knows such wonder-things as I.
+    On fresh, dew mornings, when I used to play,
+      Out where the friendly rose-hedge grows so high,
+    The pinks and four-o'clocks would lean to me
+      And tell me secrets of my Summer dear.
+    It's lonesome now, and sad as it can be,
+      Since Summer is no longer here.
+
+    The Dark comes down so soon, and it is cold.
+      I wait and watch the sunset track,
+    But Mother says I'll be a year more old
+      Before my Summer will come back.
+
+[Illustration: Copyright, 1908, by Duffield & Co.]
+
+
+
+
+WHEN YOU WAIT
+
+
+    DO you know that when you wait
+      To tell the truth, and fear--
+    Until it grows _almost_ too late--
+      God leans to hear?
+
+
+
+
+PUNISHMENT
+
+
+    SOME days my doll-child is so bad,
+      I have to whip her very hard.
+    I put her in the corner there,
+      And take away her picture-card.
+
+    She's put to bed without a kiss.
+      She doesn't have her way one bit,
+    But then, _I_ am the one it hurts,
+      And so what is the use of it?
+
+[Illustration: Copyright, 1908, by Duffield & Co.]
+
+
+
+
+FIRST PITY
+
+
+    I'VE found a bird that's hurt.
+      It flutters so and cries,
+    Then looks its pain at me
+      With such bright frightened eyes.
+
+    Its feathers are so soft!
+      How quiet it is now!
+    I want to make it well--
+      I wish my hands knew how!
+
+
+
+
+NIGHT
+
+
+    I DO not like to say good-night,--
+      I hate to shut my eyes,
+    When fringe-beams of the stars and moon
+      Make day-things play surprise.
+
+    The night is such a wonder-world,
+      I love it more than day.
+    The Dark comes close and calls. That's why
+      My prayers are hard to say.
+
+
+
+
+HOVER-TIME
+
+
+    IT is the hover-time
+      That comes between the light and dark.
+    The little squirrels climb
+      Into their nests in trees and hark
+    To rustly leaves about.
+      Far off, I hear new insect cries--
+    From things which never dare call out
+      In daytime: they're afraid of _Eyes_.
+
+    Out from the purply wood
+      The first bat circles on the fly.
+    Far things draw on a hood
+      And shadows hide the place where sky
+    And earth make dim their line.
+      The trees change shape, and soon the gray
+    Blurs into black; and that's the hour
+      When dark comes down to stay.
+
+
+
+
+TREASURE CRAFT
+
+
+    UPON the brook, for treasure-craft,
+      I sail some petals, red and white;
+    They always go away from me--
+      They float much faster in their flight,
+    Than I can run along the bank.
+      My precious wee bit things bear freight;
+
+    Which very soon falls overboard,
+      And sinks where miser-folk await
+    To snatch my sparkling treasure-store.
+      Perhaps the waters dash too high
+    For such a little fleet of ships,
+      And that may be the reason why
+    My crafts do not return again.
+
+    Still, I expect them any day.
+      I've lost some things I love the best,--
+    My flower-chains and ribbons gay--
+      But, though I miss these pretty things,
+    I love much more the sailing-fun,
+      And launch new ships when morning sings,
+    And rainbow mist floats in the sun.
+
+[Illustration: Copyright, 1908, by Duffield & Co.]
+
+
+
+
+THE MOON PATH
+
+
+    IF I could walk along the path
+      The moonlight makes upon the sea,
+    I know that I should find the one
+      Who sings the Silver Song to me.
+
+
+
+
+THE RING CHARM
+
+
+    I HAVE a little charm
+      A gypsy gave to me,
+    To keep me safe from harm,
+      So ugly things can't see
+    When I am all alone.
+      It keeps the 'Fraid all out
+    When trees cry so, and moan,
+      And throw their leaves about.
+
+    It keeps away the Woops that creep
+      About my bed when I'm asleep.
+    And even by day my charm keeps anything
+      From hurting me, and that is why
+    I love my gypsy-ring
+      More than the ones I buy.
+
+    The gypsy put it on for me
+      And said some words so strange
+    I knew that they must be
+      Some fairy charm to change
+    The sad things into gay,
+      And keep me safe and well.
+    I wear it every day,
+      For that's to keep the spell.
+
+    Each morning when I wake,
+      I kiss and turn my ring
+    Three times for sake of luck
+      These wishes bring.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+[Illustration: Copyright, 1908, by Duffield & Co.]
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 41945 ***