Edward Robeson Taylor

(1838 - 1923 / Springfield, Illinois)

The Dreams of Long Ago

These dreams of mine refuse to let me go,
And hold me fast with such entreating face,
With such insistent fondness of embrace,
That once again I range the Long Ago;
Nor at this moment would I care to know
The Present's most rememberable grace;
My feet are bounding in the woodland race,
And everywhere Hope's ringing trumpets blow.
The unbounded forest and its streams are ours,

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