Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For then the night will more than pay
the hopeless longing of the day.

Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,
A messenger from radiant climes,
And smile on thy new world, and be
As kind to others as to me!

Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,
Come now, and let me dream it truth;
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
And say: My love! why sufferest thou?

Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again!
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.
Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.

Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.
Oh! that we two were maying,
Down the stream of the soft spring breeze;
Like children with violets playing
In the shade of the whispering trees.


Oh! that we two sat dreaming
On the sward of some sheep-trimmed down,
Watching the white mist streaming
Over river and mead and town.


Oh! that we two lay sleeping
In our nest in the churchyard sod,
With our limbs at rest on the quiet earth's breast,
And our souls at home with God!
Music playing is "Love Is" by Yuko Ohigashi
by Matthew Arnold
by Carl Sandburg
Love does not delight in evil
but rejoices with the truth.

It always protects,
always trusts,
always hopes,
always perseveres.



1 Corinthians 13:4-7
by Pablo Neruda
by Jim Morton
by Charles Kingsley (1819-1875)