In My Dreams I Do Hear It

In my dreams i do hear it the old mountain rill
Babbling to the river down the field by the hill
When the hawthorns are in their white blooms of the May
And the wildflowers do bloom in the fields far away
In the leafy grove the nesting birds sing
Proclaiming their territories in the prime of the spring
And cows to their young calves in pasture fields lowing
And hidden in the rank rushes the cock pheasant crowing
In dreams i am back in the old fields again
Above me the gray clouds do seem pregnant with rain
And the skylark a musical speck in the sky
Grows tinier and tinier as upwards he does fly
In reality i do know the past has long gone
But in my subconcious it does seem to live on.