sometime in my day dreaming

thru’ my half-lidded eyes,

i’m seeing old virginia

and old virginia skies.

the narrow, crooked roadway,

the path by which we came,

and then i see the river,

bluestone river, in the rain.

then there’s the drooping willows

swaying, swirling, side by side.

and the hollyhocks keep nodding

to each other in the tide.

and the mists we love o’ mornings

puts our dropping tears to shame.

when we see it clear the river,

bluestone river, in the rain.

and there’s the little homestead

just across the running stream,

it beckons from the mountain

like a kind hand in a dream.{45}

a soft, mellow light is breaking

from each golden window pane,

and it shines down on the river,

bluestone river, in the rain.