From groves of spice,
O'er fields of rice,
Athwart the lotus-stream,
I bring for you,
Aglint with dew A little lovely dream.
Sweet, shut your eyes,
The wild fire-flies Dance through the fairy neem;
From the poppy-bole For you I stole A little lovely dream.
Dear eyes, good-night,
In golden light The stars around you gleam;
On you I press With soft caress A little lovely dream.
