A clean, well-lighted place.

If there were dreams to sell,       What would you buy? Some cost a passing bell;       Some a light sigh, That shakes from Life's fresh crown Only a rose-leaf down. If there were dreams to sell, Merry and sad to tell,       And the crier rang the bell,       What would you buy?

A cottage lone and still,       With bowers nigh, Shadowy, my woes to still,       Until I die. Such pearl from Life's fresh crown Fain would I shake me down. Were dreams to have at will, This best would heal my ill,       This would I buy.