I like to hear a train whistle Far off in wakening hills. It makes me think of many new Alluring spots I'm going to When my dreams become real. And then sometimes it turns my mind To gladsome times I've left behind In days when all was weal. So when I hear a train whistle When an autumn sun has set, On memory's observation car I hie away to hills afar— To scenes I can't forget. By old home fires I spend an hour; Then roam where orchards used to flower, Through woodland streams and moonlit bowers— Where rich traditions are And life's best blessings met. Or if I hear that lone whistle On a misty morn in May, I board fair fancy's flyer bright And speed to lands of heart's delight Where dreams and playtimes stay— To sunny climes and mountain heights; To blooming, meadows infinite; Then back to where a warm lovelight Brings peace at home at night— To dream the years away. |