Day Dreaming

                                          
                                                                 “Andrews Place”, where Joe Cone was raised, on the Salmon River

                                                                       (mother - Roxanna Andrews Cone) Burned down in 1920's

I long once more to lay me down

     By the social brooklet streaming;

Where gifted thrush disturb the hush

     Of the river woodland’s dreaming.

I’d stretch me out on the mossy brink

     And peer through the branches moving;

And watch the sky where the clouds float by,

     And list to the calm and soothing.

I’d gaze down through the undergrowth

     To the sun-flecked Salmon River;

And watch the tide where the fishes hide,

     And the lilies bloom and whither.

O, stream of streams! Thy sheen is e’er

     Before my vision flowing,

Where artists sketch thy liquid stretch,

     And lovers love while rowing.

O, sun-flecked stream! Thy balmy breath

     Would faw me through my dreaming,

I would close my eyes and paradise

     Would shower me with its teeming.

The waves that kissed the shimmering sands

     Would be as a sweet voice pleading;

And I ne’er delay but send straightway

     My thanks far Heavenward speeding.

As the river wood, man’s inner life

     Should be calm and true and clinging;

His heart should twine round a thing divine

     And join in the sylvan singing.

O, give me the flowering tree,

     The brook-song and the thrushes;

The cool pine grove and the dreamy cove,

     And the meadows edged with rushes.

March 12, ‘91

Pub. in the

Conn. Valley Ad.