I dreamt I lived in a house made of books in the library
A floor of prose, four walls made of fiction and poetry
Biographs above my head, history to make my bed
Lay down little sleepyhead
In a bed that's made out of books in the library
I took a walk in the garden blooming with paperbacks
Thru the rows of hedges made out of almanacs
By the Spoon River I stroll
On the road back to my home
Past the looking glass I go
To a house that's made out of books in the library