At night I reach for you, but you’re not there.
I wait, hear heels that tap across the floor.
It must, most certain be a trap, a snare,
Cruel trick, the phantom step beyond the door.
In breathless trepidation do I wait
For you, just you, no’ne else but you will do.
“I do,” the words I’ve spoken much too late
To bind our troth and make our life anew.
Dear Kate, I beg, please come to me again.
With heaving bosom, dance with me a turn.
Such perfect grace together we attain
That even Rose, her favor we might earn.
Alas, I wish that this were but a dream,
In fact, I fear it’s all that it doth seem.