Only The Memories Are With Me

Back there in the fields by the old stream I daydreamed I would be a poet That I would become very famous a literary person of note But daydreams as we know are daydreams and daydreams do seldom come true And life it has formed the habit of giving us what we are due. I penned doggerel to the dipper the white breasted bird of the stream He sung on a rock in the rapids he piped his notes in my daydream I marvelled at the wonders of Nature to doggerel me she did inspire I loved her as I always will do and her I will always admire. The Spring brought her flowers to the old fields the hawthorns wore their white blooms of May I marvelled at the beauty around me I still visualize it today Cock robin the bold one was singing proudly proclaiming his territory On his ruddy breast the sun was shining atop the green sycamore tree. I daydreamed that I would be famous in the old fields west of the Town But daydreams of course only daydreams and I no longer daydream of renown The dipper he sang in the old stream the dark brown bird with breast white as snow But only the memories are with me since that was a long time ago.