As I sat here in my armchair
And listened to a dreamy tune
The wireless gave, and smoked my pipe,
Content, I used to think of you.
While walking when ashore, the air
Exhilarating me, the moon
Set pale in fragile blue, a curlew
Calling, I would sing of you.
And sometimes, reading, there would be
A page, a paragraph, a phrase
Which conjured up a memory
Of happy moments spent with you
And I would smile. A word maybe,
A soft perfume, the sun's glad rays,
A haunting song - these came to me
And made me dream. And I still do.
1943
