Poems (Dodd)/Day Dreaming

DAY-DREAMING.

How do the memories we love,
Come like a fairy spell,
When far away, the banished heart
Will on home-tokens dwell.

One smooth, bright curl of auburn hair,
Doth round my finger twine,
And then I see the fair brow where
Its sister tresses shine.

I muse—and in my waking dream,
Swiftly sweet visions come;
And fancy leads me gently back
To thee, mine own green home.

The summer rose is blooming now,
Throwing its fragrance wide;
Again I breathe the mountain air,
And thou art by my side:

Thou, whose dear presence from my thoughts
Can every care beguile,
With thy sweet words of innocence,
And ever sunny smile.

Once more those blue, mirth-loving eyes,
Upon my pathway shine;
And as I view each well known spot,
Thy bright glance follows mine.

We stray in quiet converse where
The sun-lit waters glance,
Or read beneath the elm-tree's shade
Some tale of old romance.

I see thy heart's deep tenderness,
Told in its mirror fair,
As every thought the poet loves,
Finds its own echo there.

And when the twilight shadows fall,
Forbidding far to roam,
That voice of wave-like melody,
Is singing "home, sweet home."

'T is gone!—and I am left alone—
Faded the vision fair!
My clasping fingers only hold
The lock of satin hair.

While others doat on gems of price,
One treasured tress is mine;
And many a dear day-dream I owe
To this bright curl of thine.