I just think that dreams are best,
 Just to sit and fancy things;
 Give your gold no acid test,
Try not how your silver rings;
Fancy women pure and good,
 Fancy men upright and true:
 Fortressed in your solitude,
Let Life be a dream to you.

For I think that Thought is all;
 Truth's a minion of the mind;
 Love's ideal comes at call;
As ye seek so shall ye find.
But ye must not seek too far;
 Things are never what they seem:
 Let a star be just a star,
And a woman -- just a dream.

O you Dreamers, proud and pure,
 You have gleaned the sweet of life!
 Golden truths that shall endure
Over pain and doubt and strife.
 I would rather be a fool
 Living in my Paradise,
 Than the leader of a school,
 Sadly sane and weary wise.

 O you Cynics with your sneers,
 Fallen brains and hearts of brass,
 Tweak me by my foolish ears,
 Write me down a simple ass!
I'll believe the real "you"
 Is the "you" without a taint;
 I'll believe each woman too,
But a slightly damaged saint.

Yes, I'll smoke my cigarette,
 Vestured in my garb of dreams,
 And I'll borrow no regret;
All is gold that golden gleams.
So I'll charm my solitude
 With the faith that Life is blest,
 Brave and noble, bright and good, . . .
 Oh, I think that dreams are best!