Dream on, for dreams are sweet: Do not awaken! Dream on, and at thy feet Pomegranates shall be shaken.
Who likeneth the youth Of life to morning? 'Tis like the night in truth, Rose-coloured dreams adorning.
The wind is soft above, The shadows umber. (There is a dream called Love.) Take thou the fullest slumber!
In Lethe's soothing stream, Thy thirst thou slakest. Sleep, sleep; 't is sweet to dream. Oh, weep when thou awakest!
Temples he built and palaces of air, And, with the artist's parent-pride aglow, His fancy saw his vague ideals grow Into creations marvellously fair;
He set his foot upon Fame's nether stair. But ah, his dream,--it had entranced him so He could not move. He could no farther go; But paused in joy that he was even there!
He did not wake until one day there gleamed Thro' his dark consciousness a light that racked His being till he rose, alert to act. But lo! what he had dreamed, the while he dreamed, Another, wedding action unto thought, Into the living, pulsing world had brought.
The sun has slipped his tether And galloped down the west. (Oh, it's weary, weary waiting, love.) The little bird is sleeping In the softness of its nest. Night follows day, day follows dawn, And so the time has come and gone: And it's weary, weary waiting, love.
The cruel wind is rising With a whistle and a wail. (And it's weary, weary waiting, love.) My eyes are seaward straining For the coming of a sail; But void the sea, and void the beach Far and beyond where gaze can reach! And it's weary, weary waiting, love.
I heard the bell-buoy ringing-- How long ago it seems! (Oh, it's weary, weary waiting, love.) And ever still, its knelling Crashes in upon my dreams. The banns were read, my frock was sewn; Since then two seasons' winds have blown-- And it's weary, weary waiting, love.
The stretches of the ocean Are bare and bleak to-day. (Oh, it's weary, weary waiting, love.) My eyes are growing dimmer-- Is it tears, or age, or spray? But I will stay till you come home. Strange ships come in across the foam! But it's weary, weary waiting, love.
Ah, yes, the chapter ends to-day; We even lay the book away; But oh, how sweet the moments sped Before the final page was read!
We tried to read between the lines The Author's deep-concealed designs; But scant reward such search secures; You saw my heart and I saw yours.