Like a dream you came to me,
And trod along the gentle path,
Like a dream you spoke again,
Said what I had once hoped to hear.
A million sighs like filled balloons
Flew pleasantly southwest and high,
Blown fast by kind old Zephyr's touch.
The old familiar visitant,
The ache that's spanned the years and years,
No longer welcomed, nor its lack
Did sting as we today ambled.
The birds gathered and sang just like
A merry band of strolling lutes,
But not outshown by the kindly Sun,
Who poured and splashed his golden rain
Upon your hair (each strand repaid).
But your smile accrued double.
So why am I again attended by
The milky form as though conjured?
Well paid, I do not owe again!
Your golden glow will pay suffice!
Why then do I again feel poor?
Surely, though it was like a dream…
But, oh! There was no like — only a dream.