DREAMS FOR THREE

Three little dreams flew in from the south And they flew in a swift straight line And one was a dream of peaches and cream And that little dream was mine; I dreamed that a pretty white cloth was spread With the round moon set for a dish And I ate in state of peaches and cream As much as my heart could wish. The next little dream was a funny one; It came to Molly O’Lear; She thought that she rode on a great green goose That bucked like a Texas steer; It flopped about, till it knocked her off, And it cackled “Gingerbread Joke;” And Molly wondered what that could be, And while she was wondering, woke. The last little dream was the best of all. It flew to Elizabeth Lee. She swung in a hammock, embroidered with snails, Way up to the top of a tree; And there she found, all cuddled away, In a sort of a cottony nest, The Little Lost Princess of Shut-Eye town;— No wonder her dream was best.