Years Ago.

Annie I dreamed a strange dream last night, At my bedside, I dreamed, you stood clad in white; Your dark curly hair 'round your snow-white brow,— (Are those locks as raven and curly now?) And those rosebud lips, which in days lang syne, I have kissed and blest, because they were mine. And thine eyes soft light, Shone as mellow and bright, As it did years ago,— Years ago. And I fancy I heard the soft soothing sound Of thy voice, that sweet melody breathed all around, Whilst enraptured I gazed, and once more the sweet smile, Made sunshine, my sorrowing heart to beguile, And thy milkwhite hands stroked my heated brow;— (Oh! what would I give could I feel them now!) But alas! Woe is me! No more can it be, As it was years ago,— Years ago. I awoke with a gnawing pain at my heart, The vision had vanished,—but oh, the smart Of the wound, which no time can ever heal, Was a torment, which only lost souls can feel. Yet in spite of the pain, the woe, the despair, I dote, as I look on a lock of dark hair, That I culled from the head, Of the loveliest maid; Many long years ago,— Years ago. Will fate ever bring us together again? Will my heart never know a surcease from pain? Are the dark locks I worshipped, now mingled with grey? Has Time stolen brightness and beauty away? I care not,—for years have but made thee more dear; But my longing is vain, Thou wilt ne'er come again. Lost,—lost,—years ago,— Years ago.