Dreams can be pitiful things,
When your secret love in them flies.
They do to you terrible things,
When you see your hidden love’s eyes.
She torments me in my dreams,
This love who knows not my name.
There she does to me dreadful things,
And treats my love like a game.
Then I awake to see her not,
The love who knows not my name,
But in my heart I still rot,
To wish she’d love me all the same.
by Ryan Wormald