TO ———.
O come to me in dreams, love; smile on me once again; My heart is busy with its grief, my soul enwrapped in woe;I little thought in early days to know so much of pain; Life seemed a silver rivulet, so brightly did it flow.Turn back the foaming tide, love, this once turn back its waves, My spirit yearns so sadly now to travel o'er the past;My tears are falling silently above its many graves, Where all the freshness of my soul has been forever cast.
Those bright enchanted hours, when we knelt at pleasure's shrine, And tasted first the rosy draught that angel hands prepare;
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