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Image by Richard Horvath

The Dream Trader
By Ivy Imogene Hansdak

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From the magical land of the past I come

A dreamer, a spinner of lustrous dreams,

With colours snatched from the rainbow and flowers,

With brilliance trapped from the sunbeams and stars,

With freshness stolen from the dewdrops of spring

And sweetness from a golden honeycomb I bring,

A gaiety from the dance of the rippling seas,

Of these my portions, I spin my fine dreams.


From the magical land of the past I come

To sell my dreams to all tired people,

To the lord and the slave, the timid and the brave,

To sell them even to the fool and the knave;

But for every dream I give to them

I take neither silver nor gold nor gem,

Only a heart of forgiveness for an error,

A smile of comfort for another’s sorrow.

Image by Amelia Bartlett
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