How long I slept I know not. Long, long hours
I seem’d communing with the joyous past;
Sometimes I saw the brilliant summer flowers,
And sometimes heard the moaning winter blast.
Dreams are not bounded by the lapse of time,
Nor chain’d to place, mind in its flight sublime.
In peaceful paths we wander’d hand in hand,
We three, whose hearts had “melted into one;”
On flowery hills inhaled the breezes bland,
And silent watched the slow descending sun;