I often think and dream and ponder
Of things that I have seen,
And twist the real into a wonder
When men and birds convene.

If I could reach that star up yonder,
My soul would lift and preen;
If Summertime would always stay
My yard would be more green.

I see the airplane rise and soaring
On all bright days and fair;
The tiny specks go roaring out
Across the hills from care.

If my good pilot friend is landing
On some star world up there.
He might bring back some silver
Or flowers for my hair.