Lorraine began my loving and my grieving,
My madness and my spirit’s blind believing
That torture, far too terrible to tell,
Would cease, and then into my sombre cell
A saving stream of loving light would filter:
(Sweet solace for a life thrown out of kilter)
And I’d awake, at last, all healed and sane
Beside my first and long-lost love, Lorraine.
Lorraine lived on, for me, when we were over:
(A fearful fate that hid a four-leaf clover!)
For when a thousand suns had sunk and set,
The girl, who’d been a dream, at last I met.
It was a winter’s day when wind was raging;
(The years had passed, for hearts, without their aging.)
As she wept tears the broken-hearted cry;
I breathed the sigh that sole survivors sigh.