I have always been a wand’rer
Over land and sea;
Yet a moonbeam on the water
Casts a spell o’er me.
A vision fair I see;
Again I seem to be:
Chorus –
Back home again in Indiana,
And it seems that I can see
The gleaming candle light, still shining bright,
Through the sycamores for me.
The new-mown hay sends all its frangrance
From the fields I used to roam.
When I dream about the moonlight on the Wabash,
Then I long for my Indiana home.
Fancy paints on mem’ry’s canvas
Scenes that we hold dear.
We recall them in days after,
Clearly they appear.
And oftentimes I see
A scene that’s dear to me.
– DAVY HILL. Keller, Texas
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