A Misunderstanding

I crave of you pardon to-day, Yesterday I was mad when I spoke; But the dream of our friendship was fair, And my heart seemed to die when I woke. I forgot when the fair image grew Till a goddess's beauty it bore, That the beautiful moulding was mine, The clay was but clay as before. I slept by a fountain one eve, And thirsting awakened to drink; But the waters I dreamt of were gone, The young grass lay dead on the brink. Did I think that the sun of to-day Would shine out to-morrow as fair? Did I vow this sweet breeze would return, That now lifts with soft fingers my hair? Then I were a fool so to dream So, friend, grant your pardon to me. She I loved and I lost was not you, But what I had wished you to be.