At midnight, in my dream, a cry was heard,
As of the bridegroom’s coming. Through the black
And solitary void no echo stirred
Sounded this melody: He has come back!
A little moment, and behold once more
I saw him, as he lived, before me stand,
But to a deeper hue than erst it wore
By largesse of the sun his cheek was tanned.
They said that gipsies had decoyed my love,
And he, o’er hill and dale, through waste and wood,
Where’er such pensioners of nature rove,
Had shared their wandering life and found it good.
In careless joy glad day had followed day;
And that was why he was so long away.
[Illustration: “O’er hill and dale, through waste and wood.”]