TRYST
Reading edition
When evening fires are burning low, Into my room I softly go; In this sweet hour I love the most, To tender dreams I am the host. Close to my chair each loved one stands; I feel the clasp of friendly hands; I hear the breathing of their sighs, And see the smile within their eyes. The night without is gray and old, And all my heart is bitter cold; ’Tis then, fair dreams, I miss you so, You and the hour when fires are low. The world is full of foolish things; Its siren voice forever sings. Dear dreams of love, be with me yet, Lest I your sweetness all forget.