Love hath its hills and valleys 
and windswept plains 
where storms do sometimes rage.  

In the darkest shadows deep
there walks the ghosts of love's requite
and pale forgotten kisses;

but in the light a rainbow 
steps upon the land
to shoulder some of Heaven's wrath
and gird the weaken'd hand,

and so we live, my Heart and I,
to wend our way past time's own end,
one a ghost and one a kiss
and both within the shadows
and somewhat in the light;

reality, the merest whisp
like fog before this dream
can neither hold nor tarry long
but says goodbye with softest lisp
to fade like an ancient steam.