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James Whitcomb Riley - Dreamer, Say
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Dreamer, say, will you dream for me
    A wild sweet dream of a foreign land,
Whose border sips of a foaming sea
    With lips of coral and silver sand;
Where warm winds loll on the shady deeps,
    Or lave themselves in the tearful mist
The great wild wave of the breaker weeps
    O`er crags of opal and amethyst?

Dreamer, say, will you dream a dream
    Of tropic shades in the lands of shine,
Where the lily leans o`er an amber stream
    That flows like a rill of wasted wine,--
Where the palm-trees, lifting their shields of green,
    Parry the shafts of the Indian sun
Whose splintering vengeance falls between
    The reeds below where the waters run?

Dreamer, say, will you dream of love
    That lives in a land of sweet perfume,
Where the stars drip down from the skies above
    In molten spatters of bud and bloom?
Where never the weary eyes are wet,
    And never a sob in the balmy air,
And only the laugh of the paroquet
    Breaks the sleep of the silence there?
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