THE HOUSE O’ DREAMS

Over the river upon the hill Is a little brown house, fast-shut and still; Around it circle sighing trees That whisper a plaint to the passing breeze, And over it trailing shadows go In endless search for flowers a-blow. Over the river upon the hill, When starry night is cool and still, Then comes a dream of days of old— A dream of love too long untold. My heart runs vainly to the door Of the little house on the misty shore.