Sometimes, beneath the brightest skies,
The children pause amid their play,
With parted lips and earnest eyes
In silence looking far away.
We may not know, we cannot see
The wonder-world whereon they gaze;
Heaven grant, whate’er their dreams may be,
They find them true in after days!
Dreaming sit the children,
Pausing in their play,
Dreaming of what is, ah! so sweet,
Because, because so far away.
And we too have our dreams, our own,
Amid the rush and toil of life,
Our dreams of days and things long flown,
That come like peace comes, after strife.
Old hands we feel, old eyes we see,
Within our ears old voices ring;
They are but dreams, maybe, maybe,
But oh! the blessing that they bring.
Dreaming like the children,
We dream from day to day,
Dreaming of what is, ah! so sweet,
Because, because so far away.