Where Dreams Are Sold

Where Dreams Are Sold
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At the silken sign of the Poppy
At a shop that is never old
Where the twilight silence lingers,
It is there that dreams are sold

There’s the scent of love’s lost roses,
The soft echo of childhood’s laugh;
There’s the ring of empty glasses,
For the white lips never quaff

To the crimson sign of the Poppy
We shall come when the daylight dies,
When the curfew music quivers
Neath the gray of evening skies

Just beyond the gates of sunset,
Where the grim toll of death we pay,
We shall find the shop of dream-wares
Where the poppies hang alway

So, we long for the dusk of twilight,
When with wealth or no earthly gold,
We shall come where sleep-flowers cls- ter
To the shops where dreams are sold
-Canadian Magazine