Your presence sweet oft comes to me in dreams, O'er me it bends and smiles, caressing me, And gently chides, but with a kiss, it seems For foolish tears I shed; I laugh in glee But ere the golden day has come you flee Away—O dear white angel clad in light, Why is it God Will only let you come to me by night? At eve, my dear, you're something felt, not seen, Like an invisible wave of soft sea-air; When day grows still and skies are opaline You wrap yourself in cloudy mist, to fare Forth down a glimmering starry stair,— I'm glad to bid the lonely day adieu, I love the night because it brings me you. |