Hilda Conkling

((1910–1986) / New York)

The Dream - Poem by Hilda Conkling

When I slept, I thought I was upon the mountain-tops,
and this is my dream.
I saw the little people come out into the night,
I saw their wings glittering under the stars.
Crickets played all the tunes they knew.
It was so comfortable with light . . .
Stars, a rainbow, the moon!
The fairies had shiny crowns
on their bright hair.
The bottoms of their little gowns were roses!
It was musical in the moony light,
and the fairy queen,
oh, it was all golden where she came
with tiny pages on her trail.
She walked slowly to her high throne,
slowly, slowly to music,
and watched the dancing that went on
all night long in star-glitter
on the mountain-tops.

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 30, 2016

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