As swallows turning backward When halfway o’er the sea, At one word’s trumpet summons They came again to me— The hopes I had forgotten Came back again to me.
I know not which to credit, O lady of my heart! Your eyes that bade me linger, Your words that bade us part— I know not which to credit, My reason or my heart.
But be my hopes rewarded, Or be they but in vain, I have dreamed a golden vision, I have gathered in the grain— I have dreamed a golden vision, I have not lived in vain.