Were I a springtime breeze,

A breeze in the time when the song-birds pair,

I'd tenderly smooth and caress your hair,

And hide from your eyes in the budding trees.

Were I a June-time rose,

I'd glow in the ardor of summer's behest,

And die in my passion upon your breast,

In the passion that only a lover knows.

Were I a lilting bird,

I'd fly with my song and my joy and my pain,

And beat at your lattice like summer-rain,

Till I knew that your inmost heart was stirred.

Were I a winged dream,

I'd steal in the night to your slumbering side,

And the joys of hope in your bosom I'd hide,

And pass on my way like a murmuring stream.

Tell me the truth, the truth,

Have I merited woe at your tapering hands,

Have you wilfully burst love's twining strands,

And cast to the winds affection and ruth?

'Twas a fleeting vision of joy,

While you loved me you plumed your silvery wings,

And in fear of the pain that a man's love brings

You fled to a bliss that has no alloy.