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Text
Through the Ivory Gate
English source:
Julian Sturgis
I had a dream last night
Dream of a friend that is dead
He came with dawn's first light
And stood beside my bed:
And as he there did stand,
With gesture fine and fair,
He passed a wan white hand
Over my tumbled hair,
Saying: "No friendship dieth
With death of any day,
No true friendship lieth
Cold with lifeless clay.
"Though our boyhood's playtime,
Be gone with summer's breath,
No friendship fades with Maytime
No friendship dies with death."
Then answer had I made
But that the rapture deep
Did hold me, half afraid
To mar that rose of sleep
So with closed eyes I lay,
Lord of the vision fair;
And when 'twas perfect day
Only the day was there.
Dream of a friend that is dead
He came with dawn's first light
And stood beside my bed:
And as he there did stand,
With gesture fine and fair,
He passed a wan white hand
Over my tumbled hair,
Saying: "No friendship dieth
With death of any day,
No true friendship lieth
Cold with lifeless clay.
"Though our boyhood's playtime,
Be gone with summer's breath,
No friendship fades with Maytime
No friendship dies with death."
Then answer had I made
But that the rapture deep
Did hold me, half afraid
To mar that rose of sleep
So with closed eyes I lay,
Lord of the vision fair;
And when 'twas perfect day
Only the day was there.
Composer
Hubert Parry
Sir Charles Hubert Hastings Parry, 1st Baronet was an English composer, teacher and historian of music.
