I dreamed of you last night, love,
And the dream was one of bliss,
You softly stole upon me,
On my lips you pressed a kiss.
A kiss so soft and gentle,
It seemed, some being of love
Had touched my lips with perfume,
Gathered from heaven above.
It gently eased my weary heart,
It cooled my fevered brain,
It felt what seems must be the joy
Of a flower after rain.
I woke, yes truly thinking,
Your own sweet face to meet;
But found it only just a dream,
A dream so wondrous sweet.
O, why should dreams be fleeting?
Why do they die at birth?
For they mingle the joys of heaven,
With these transient joys of earth.
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