The rain is wind-lashed clatteringly upon the window pane, tonight;
the ragged leaves, in torn confusion from the branches, whipped, and flying.
The clouds are rushing overhead; the Moon, the Stars, are lost from sight;
Autumn strides across the shivering land, and Summer's slowly... dying.

If, only... You were in my arms. If wishes really could come true...
it wouldn't matter that the rain is lashing. I could dream... with You.


The wind is whimpering a lonely, sad refrain... the tree-tops sighing
as if... for Love not quite burst forth in bloom... a whisper in the night.
A shining dream of hope, and love... but for now, the sky is crying;
shall I ever hold You close, and touch you... Oh, my heart's delight?

If, only, You were in my arms. If only, this was really true...
it wouldn't matter that the night was cold; I would be warm... with You.


The fire is sinking dim; the log ash glowing pale, and crumbling swift;
the warmth is slowly waning as the wind moans, mournful, in the night.
Whimpering like some lost soul, as around the eaves, it spins and drifts;
as if, communing with my thoughts, in sympathy with my heart's plight.

If, only, You were in my arms. If my heart whispers could come true...
it wouldn't matter that I'm cold, and I can only dream of You.

The morning draws me from my slumbering to its grey, and dismal light.
The trees stand gloating; ghostly, in the fog; the night was so unkind.
I could not find You in the landscape of my dreams... this hope, so bright;
we could not trace the pathway through the borderlands that drift and wind...

and only eerie shadow-lands ensnare me in their chilling thrall;
for dreaming without You, my Love; can never be a dream at all.