As I walked through the dream-peopled streets Of the wind-rustling, elm-shaded city Where all of the houses were friends And the trees were all lovers of her, The spell of its old enchantment Was woven again to subdue me With magic of flickering shadows, Blown branches and leafy stir. Street after street, as I passed, Lured me and beckoned me onward, Releasing like flowery fragrance Remembrance and hope on the air. At the end of each breeze-blurred vista She seemed to be watching and waiting, With leaf shadows over her gown And sunshine gilding her hair. For there was a dream that the kind God Withheld, while granting us many. -- But surely, I think, we shall come Sometime, at the last, she and I, To the heaven He keeps for all tired souls, The quiet suburban gardens Where He Himself walks in the evening Beneath the rose-dropping sky, And watches the balancing elm-trees With a sob of delight for their beauty, And hears through their lofty arches The night breeze ruffle by. |