Grace Moore Kimata - 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.

Grace Moore Kimata

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