Her Dream.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 935, 31 January 1890, Page 4

Her Dream.

Fold your arms around me, sweet. As mino against your haart doth beat. Kiss me, love, till it fade, the fright Of the dreadful dveatn I dreamt last night. Oh, thank God, it is yon, it is you, My own love, fair and strong and true. We two are 'ho same that, yesterday. Played in the light and tossed the hay. My hair yon stroke, O dearest ons. Is alive with youth and bright with the sun. Tell me again, love, how I seem ‘The prettiest queen of curds and cream. Fold mo close and kiss me again; Kis3 off the sorrow of last night’s pain I dreamt last might, as I lay In bed, That I was old and that you were dead I knew you had died long time ago, And. I well recalled the moan and woe. You had died in your beautiful youth, my sweet ; You had gone to your rest with untired feet; And I had prayed to come to you, To lay me down and slumber too. But it might not be, and the days went on, And I was all alone, alone. The women camo so neighbourly, And kissed my face and wept with mo ; And the men stood still to see mo pass, And smiled grave smiles and stud ! Poor lass Sometimes I seemed to hoar your feet, And my grief-numbed heart would wildly brat ; And I stopped end named my darling’s name— But never a word of answer came. The men and women ceased ai la.st, To pity pain that was of the past ; For pain is common and grief and lots ; And many come home by Weeping Cross, Why do I tell'you this, my doai ? Sorrow is gone now yon are her. You and I we sit in the light, And fled is the horror of yesternight. The time went on, and I saw one day My body was bont and my hair was grey. But the boys and girls a.whispering Sweet tales in tile sweet light of the spring. Never paused in the tales they told To say ‘ He is dead and she is old.’ There’s a place in the churchyard where I thought Long since my lover had been brought ; '' It had sunk with years from the high green mound To a level no stranger could have found : But I, I always knew the spot; How could I miss it, know it not ? Darling, darling, draw me nea-, For I cannot shake off the dread and fear. Fold me close I scarce can breathe , And kiss me for, 10, above, beneath, The blue sky fades and the green grass dries. And the sunshine goes from my lips and eyes, 0 God— that dream—it has not fled — One of us old and one of us dead. —Pobnhill.