WE sleep upon fir-tree boughs at night, My hunting-dog and I: He dreams of the chase thro' the whistling pines But I Dream of a house in a city street Where the smoky chimneys rise to meet The arching blue of the sky. We sleep upon fir-tree boughs at night, My hunting-dog and I: He dreams of a stag with his antlers tall; But I Dream of a girl with a round sweet face, Of her pretty ways and her charming grace, And the bonds we hope to tie. We sleep upon fir-tree tops at night, My hunting-dog and I: He dreams of the morrow's sunny smile; But I Dream of one that I idolize, And the promise that rests in her soft blue eyes For the coming by and by. |