IF only in my dreams I once might see
Thy face! though thou shouldst stand
With cold, unreaching hand,
Nor vex thy lips to break
The silence, with a word for my love's sake;
Nor turn to mine thine eyes,
Serene with the long peace of Paradise,
Yet, henceforth, life would be
Made sweet, not wholly bitter unto me.

If only I might know for verity,
That when the light is done
Of this world's sun,
And that unknown, long-sealed
To sound and sight, is suddenly revealed,
That thine should be the first dear voice thereof,
And thy dear face the first—O love, my love!
Then coming death would be
Sweet, ah, most sweet, not bitter unto me!