I ask but one thing of you, only one,
That always you will be my dream of you;
That never shall I wake to find untrue All this I have believed and rested on,
Forever vanished, like a vision gone Out into the night.
Alas, how few There are who strike in us a chord we knew Existed, but so seldom heard its tone We tremble at the half-forgotten sound.
The world is full of rude awakenings And heaven-born castles shattered to the ground,
Yet still our human longing vainly clings To a belief in beauty through all wrongs.
O stay your hand, and leave my heart its songs!
