Land of a Dream

 

Down where the river brawls through the green valley,

Down where the cat-tails stand by the swift stream,

Down where the wild winds are singing a rally,

And the cliffs are all scarred, is the land of a dream;

There where the skies in their color are vieing

With your eyes, as they looked on a day that I know,

There where the purple-topped clover lay dying,

And the breeze bore its last perfumed breath to and

fro,

 

Oh, it’s there wehre the reapers had finished their

reaping,

There, there where the bees droned away the sweet

day,

Till the night in cool dews o’er the fallen came weeping,

There, there where the purple-topped sweet clover

lay;

Oh, it’s there that I see you ere night’s lamps are lighted,

While I’m sitting alone in the night’s purple gloom;

Oh, it’s there all the wrongs of the years have been

righted,

And there’s just you and me and the colver’s perfume.

 

Oh, it’s there, if the spirit may come back to hover

O’er scenes and o’er places the heart loved so well,

From the bourne the own soul shall win back of your

lover,

O’er the meadow we knew, where the sweet clover fell;

It shall range down the valley, and search the abysses

Beneath where the cliffs their dark, damp shadows

throw,

All the nooks known of old and enriched by your kisses,

And shall dwell by the scenes we two loved long ago.

 

 

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