IMPERSONALITY

By Rose Hawthorne Lathrop

I dreamed within a dream the sun was gold;

And as I walked beneath this golden sun,

The world was like a mighty play-room old,

Made for our pleasure since it was begun.

But when I waked I found the sun was air,

The world was air, and all things only seemed,

Except the thoughts we grow by; for in prayer

We change to spirits such as God has dreamed.