The Dreamer

I dreamed a dream of distant lands
Beyond the seagull's cry;
And while I dreamed, the hills turned green
And spring went by.
I saw a vision of delight
Upon a far-off shore;
And while I dreamed, the roses bloomed
Beside my door.
It was the time of golden rod
Before I woke to see
The burning beauty of the leaves
Upon the maple tree.

by Grace Moore Kimata

Other poems of GRACE MOORE KIMATA (3)

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.