Believe me, this was true last night, Tho’ it is false to-day. -- A.M.F. Robinson. A fair dream to my chamber flew: Such a crowd of folk that stirred, Jested, fluttered; only you, You alone of all that band, Calm and silent, spake no word. Only once you neared my place, And your hand one moment’s space Sought the fingers of my hand; Your eyes flashed to mine; I knew All was well between us two. * * * * * On from dream to dream I past, But the first sweet vision cast Mystic radiance o’er the last. * * * * * When I woke the pale night lay Still, expectant of the day; All about the chamber hung Tender shade of twilight gloom; The fair dream hovered round me, clung To my thought like faint perfume:-- Like sweet odours, such as cling To the void flask, which erst encloses Attar of rose; or the pale string Of amber which has lain with roses.
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