The story behind the poem
title of this poem is a bit of a misnomer because it isn't a dream
house in the conventional, architectural sense - more a timeless
vision of an ideal way of life. I was inspired to write it by my
brother's girlfriend remarking that she could imagine me living in a
little house with honeysuckle round the door and wandering round in a
floppy hat dead-heading roses. I took it at the time as a compliment,
which I'm sure it was meant to be, but circumstances have never
afforded me such luxury.
by Damaris West
Read the poem
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