THE BRIDGE OF DREAMS

The thought of thee is like a swinging tune,

A little swinging tune I seem to hear;

The thought of thee is like the breeze of June

Blowing across the winter of the year!

The thought of thee is like a golden star

Set all alone within the midnight blue;—

A heaven-lit candle shining from afar

Upon the road that we are passing through.

The thought of thee is like the woods in spring,

With silver-grey and silver-green o'erset;

The thought of thee is what the four winds bring

Over the banks of wild-blown mignonette.

And all the music of the twilight sea,

Echoes thy voice in tender undertone;

The sea-gulls seem but grey-winged thoughts of thee,

Caught on the salted wing and homeward blown!

God keeps the secret of His heaven well,—

But Azrael finds its gates, where'er they be;

And from the earth, to fields of Asphodel,

I build a bridge of dreams, and cross to thee.