O, that my life were a dream
my spirit shan't awake until the beam
of an eternity shall bring a new tomorrow
o, that long dream were of hopeless sorrow.

It were better than the cold reality
of waking life, to him whose heart must be
and has been still upon the lovely earth,
a chaos of deep passions from his birth.

For I have revelled when the sun was bright
in summer skies in dreams of living light.
And loveliness has left my very heart
come sweet night and tear my soul apart.

Its image on my spirit – or the moon
shone on my slumbers in her lofty noon,
too coldly – or the stars – however it was,
that dream was at the night-wind – let it pass.