Now sometimes in the quiet of the night
I seem to hear your voice, your image see,
I wake to find your breathing near to me,
And of your fleeting lines, glimpse a swift sight.
I feel that I must meet you, not by chance,
Round the next corner, down some avenue,
I more than fancy surely it is you
And with stern fact must be at variance:
Yes, through a window once I saw you dance!
