Forgiven

I dreamed so dear a dream of you last night! I thought you came. I was so glad, so gay, I whispered, 'Those were foolish words to say; I meant them not. I cannot bear the sight Of our dear face. I cannot meet the light Of your dear eyes upon me. Sit, I pray- Sit here beside me; turn your look away, And lay your cheek on mine,' Till morning bright We sat so, and we did not speak. I knew All was forgiven, so nestled there With your arms round. Swift the sweet hours flew. At last I waked, and sought you everywhere. How long, dear, think you, that my glad cheek will Burn-as it burns with our cheek's pressure still?