The Wanderer's Dream

There is a spot, removed but a little way,
Where the hillocks stand guard upon a vale;
Where the little roadway winds
In peaceful quietude,
And the briar-rose nestles at its hem.
Where the dusky shadows lurk,
And the redwing flashes,
Breaking the peaceful lull with its call;
Whirring, the lark too sinks within the shadow,
Where the fields sway heavy with the weighty grain.
The moon seeks nightly o'er the soft hill's line,
Tracing with her streaming silver every leaf;
And the night seems lothful coming,
For the sun lies long within the West-way's arms.
There is a cot that lies amid the thicket;
Mossed its roof, and the swallows home within
Its chimney pot; soft hang the shadows 'bout
Its eaves, and the latchet stands agape.
There is a spot, but a little way removed,
Where my fancy leads me, straying back
O'er the little winding roadway, where
The briar rose sways; and I see the moon returning,
And the gentle eve of yore.
Oh loving Father, keep the memory green!