Are you real? I'm afraid that you're the product of my fevered reveries Though I could never conjure such perfection In form and nobility of mind.
Are you real? It's been so long since I've known such a dream Of a angel, with All the elven mischief of an April afternoon.
Are you real? I am sure that if I touched you, you'd just melt away Like the morning mist in the hills and the valleys A lovely vision of what life ought to be.
Are you real? I ask this question to the starlight Which seems reflect in your midnight eyes
Are you real? Is this face which is so suddenly Familiar to me as my own Truly there?