From behind the veil you hold me
until the day I die;
when once again I will tell you
of how love's whispered sigh
can break down the impossible
and keep you in my heart,
whilst my soul sings of moonlight eyes
in works of painted art.
Now the veil is at its thinnest;
will you reach out to me
and gently hold my hand again;
will my eyes once more see
my lady with the moonlight eyes,
who kept dark nights at bay
or do I have to wait still longer
until my dying day?