You took my empty dreams And filled them every one With tenderness and nobleness, April and the sun. The old empty dreams Where my thoughts would throng Are far too full of happiness To even hold a song. Oh, the empty dreams were dim And the empty dreams were wide, They were sweet and shadowy houses Where my thoughts could hide. But you took my dreams away And you made them all come true, My thoughts have no place now to play, And nothing now to do.
Return to the Sara Teasdale Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; I Am Not Yours