Paul Laurence Dunbar

Over the Hills

Over the hills and the valleys of dreaming
Slowly I take my way.
Life is the night with its dream—visions teeming,
Death is the waking at day.
 
Down thro’ the dales and the bowers of loving,
Singing, I roam afar.
Daytime or night—time, I constantly roving,—
Dearest one, thou art my star.
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