Cicely Fox Smith

(1 February 1882 – 8 April 1954 / Lymm, Cheshire)

Along The Prairie Trail - Poem by Cicely Fox Smith

I know it's only dreaming, and it never may be more,
But I'm thinking, as I have done many and many a time before,
That some day I'll be standing here and leaning on the rail,
And look, and see you coming along the prairie trail.

Oh, first I'd think perhaps I took some other one for you,
And then I'd be afraid to wake and find it wasn't true,
And there'd be sweet flowers everywhere, and singing on the gale,
When I went out to greet you along the prairie trail.

I'd have my hands in yours then, and you'd have hold of mine:
I'd look, and look again, and drink the sight of you like wine,
And ah! We'd have so much to say that all our words would fail
When you came up to meet me along the prairie trail.

I daresay dreams are folly (but sometimes they come true),
And after all is said, it's just a pleasant thing to do,
To stand, as I do now, and watch the sunset sky grow pale,
And think you're coming yonder along the prairie trail.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, August 30, 2010

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