IF life were but a dream, my Love,
And death the waking time;
If day had not a beam, my Love,
And night had not a rhyme, —A barren, barren world were
Without one saving gleam;
I'd only ask that with a
You'd wake me from the dream.
If dreaming were the sum of days,
And loving were the bane;
If battling for a wreath of
Could soothe a heart in pain, —I'd scorn the meed of battle's might,
All other aims aboveI'd choose the human's higher right,
To suffer and to love!
