Forgiven

I dreamed so dear a dream of you last night!

I thought you came. I was so glad, so gay,

I whispered, "Those were foolish words to say;

I meant them not. I cannot bear the sight

Of our dear face. I cannot meet the light

Of your dear eyes upon me. Sit, I pray-

Sit here beside me; turn your look away,

And lay your cheek on mine," Till morning bright

We sat so, and we did not speak. I knew

All was forgiven, so nestled there

With your arms round. Swift the sweet hours flew.

At last I waked, and sought you everywhere.

How long, dear, think you, that my glad cheek will

Burn-as it burns with our cheek's pressure still?