The Touch of Your Hand {From Roberta}
JEROME KERN, OTTO HARBACH
When you shall see flowers that lie on the plain
Lying there, sighing for one touch of rain
Then you may borrow some glimpse of my sorrow
And you'll understand
How I long for the touch of your hand
I've loved you so; you'll never know
How through those far-ways
And strange star-ways
On sea or on land
I will long for the touch of your hand