He stood in a beautiful mansion surrounded by riches untold,
And he gazed at a beautiful picture that hung in a frame of gold;
Was a picture of a lady, so beautiful, young and fair,
To the beautiful life-like vision he murmered in sad despair:
If those lips could only speak and those eyes could only see,
Those beautiful golden tresses were here in reality;
Could I only take your hand as I did when you took my name,
But it's only a beautiful picture in a beautiful golden frame.
He stood there and gazed at that picture, slumbering, forgetting all pain,
There in that mansion in fancy she stood by his side again;
His lips softly murmered the name of his woman sweet bride,
With his eyes fixed on the picture, he awoke from the dream and he cried:
If those lips could only speak, those eyes could only see,
Those beautiful golden tresses were here in reality;
Could I only take your hand as I did when you took my name,
But it's only a beautiful picture in a beautiful, golden frame...
But it's only a beautiful picture in a beautiful, golden frame.