| Jessie B. Rittenhouse, ed. (1869–1948). The Little Book of Modern Verse. 1917. |
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| 78. The Dreamer |
| | | By Nicholas Vachel Lindsay |
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| “Why do you seek the sun, | |
| In your Bubble-Crown ascending? | |
| Your chariot will melt to mist, | |
| Your crown will have an ending.” | |
| “Nay, sun is but a Bubble, | 5 |
| Earth is a whiff of Foam— | |
| To my caves on the coast of Thule | |
| Each night I call them home. | |
| Thence Faiths blow forth to angels | |
| And Loves blow forth to men— | 10 |
| They break and turn to nothing | |
| And I make them whole again: | |
| On the crested waves of chaos | |
| I ride them back reborn: | |
| New stars I bring at evening | 15 |
| For those that burst at morn: | |
| My soul is the wind of Thule | |
| And evening is the sign, | |
| The sun is but a Bubble, | |
| A fragile child of mine.” | 20 |
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