Madame Of Dreams Poem by William Stanley Braithwaite

To John Russell Hayes

KNOW a household made of pure delight,
That sits within a garden of quietness:
A welcomed visitor by day or night,
I win a refuge from life's storm and stress.
Ah, here no footfalls cease and then resume,
Nor sounds of closing doors nor creaking beams;
And throned within her favorite gold room
Amid the roses' perfume and the gloom,
I greet my smiling hostess, Madame of Dreams.

I know not how I won so dear a friend,
I know not of her family or her race;
Her voice is a sweet music without end
Unfolding the wistful beauty of her face.
She has known all the world s great tragedies ---
Was at the ruins of Troy and Actium;
And her deep heart holds many memories
That are the ghosts of countless aching sighs
Dead lovers uttered ere their lips grew dumb.

She seems so old from her experience ---
With Egypt's queen she sailed along the Nile ---
She heard Demosthenes great eloquence ---
Saw Camelot melt 'neath Arthur s golden smile.
But Time has dealt with her as with the sea,
Whereon it leaves not any scars nor seams;
And like a bud that breaks at last to be
A faultless rose June s dews and suns decree ---
Beauty and Youth have crowned Madame of
Dreams.