HARBOR OF DREAMS
(J.R. Shannon, 1916)


When the day is dying and all the world is still, Shadows come
acreeping from each rock and rill Golden bars from sunset
land tint the hills aglow, Soft breezes whisper of days long ago;
Voices from shadowland call me, it seems, I wander on 'mid
sylvan streams, Gliding on mem'rys ship thru twilight land,
Into the Harbor of Dreams.

Angel eyes are watching thru stars way up above, Nightingale
is singing a carol of love, Night has drawn her mantle o'er land
and o'er the sea, Weaving a haze of fond mem'ries for me.
Drifting along where my dream river flows, My eyelids close in
sweet repose, Guiding me onward, my beacon light gleams, Into
the Harbor of Dreams.

Back thru the years of smiles and tears, I sail away at close of
day, And I journey a far to the land of moonbeams And anchor at
last in the Harbor of Dreams.