I dreamed that I loved a sweet
maiden,
With hair of bright rippling gold;
And the story I told of my love to
her
Is the same one that's ever been
told.
I dreamed that her eyes, bright and
gladsome,
Were dark as the raven's black wing;
And I thought that upon her third
finger
I placed a plain gold wedding ring.
I dreamed that her lips, red as
cherries,
Were dangerously close to my own;
And the kiss that I gave her whilst
dreaming,
Awoke me, so loud was its tone.
But when I awoke I remembered
The cause of my fancy's sweet
flight,
And the reason of happy dreaming,
Which made blissful the visions of
night.
‘Twas a picture which looked from
the canvas,
Painted though perfect to life,
And so sweet was the face and the
tresses,
I dreamed that I made her my wife
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