I dreamed I passed a doorway
Where, for a sign of death,
White ribbons one was binding
About a flowery wreath.

What drew me so I know not,
But drawing near I said,
“Kind sir, and can you tell me
Who is it here lies dead?”

Said he, “Your most belovèd
Died here this very day,
That had known twenty Aprils
Had she but lived till May.”

Astonished I made answer,
“Good sir, how say you so!
Here have I no belovèd,
This house I do not know.”

Quoth he, “Who from the world's end
Was destined unto thee
Here lies, thy true belovèd
Whom thou shalt never see.”

I dreamed I passed a doorway
Where, for a sign of death,
White ribbons one was binding
About a flowery wreath.