St. Martin’s Summer

As swallows turning backward
  When halfway o’er the sea,
At one word’s trumpet summons
  They came again to me⁠—
The hopes I had forgotten
  Came back again to me.

I know not which to credit,
  O lady of my heart!
Your eyes that bade me linger,
  Your words that bade us part⁠—
I know not which to credit,
  My reason or my heart.

But be my hopes rewarded,
  Or be they but in vain,
I have dreamed a golden vision,
  I have gathered in the grain⁠—
I have dreamed a golden vision,
  I have not lived in vain.