You appeared to me like rain after a dry spell Like wroth after a hard youth Like life after death And it had been so long Yet my eye could discern Less beauty in its object than my memory maintained So I whispered to myself 'Oh, it's but illusion, You did well to love him, He gave you songs to write And kept you safe,' And with a sigh of relief I let you go But you would not go For you came to me in the air about you And you walked with me from the other side of town And you touched me with your hands behind you back So I whispered to myself 'Oh, it's but illusion, You were wise to look closer You have lost nothing on the exchange of face for a soul Whatever happens now, you have been constant And let no one say you never loved.'
