Isle Of Dreams
S
Shaun Cronick
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I know a dreaming island,
A place of whispering trees.
Whose winding lanes are haunted still,
By songs of murmuring seas.
A place of crystal mornings,
Of blue washed sea and sky.
Of scented dusk at eve'times,
With golden moon on high.
And many green island pathways,
That lead up hill and down.
Will turn by farm and forest land,
To many a small cosy town.
Oh, my little island of dreaming,
Of velvet fields and wooded knolls.
You fill your hands with peace,
And set your fingers on all souls.
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