I've met some folks who say that I'm a dreamer,
And I've no doubt there's truth in what they say,
But sure a body's bound to be a dreamer
When all the things he loves are far away.
And precious things are dreams unto an exile.
They take him o'er the land across the sea
Especially when it happens he's an exile
From that dear lovely Isle of Inisfree.
And when the moonlight peeps across the rooftops
Of this great city, wondrous though it be,
I scarcely feel its wonder or its laughter.
I'm once again back home in Inisfree.
I wander o'er green hills through dreamy valleys
And find a peace no other land could know.
I hear the birds make music fit for angels
And watch the rivers laughing as they flow.
But dreams don't last
Though dreams are not forgotten
And soon I'm back to stern reality.
But though they pave the footways here with gold dust,
I still would choose the Isle of Inisfree.