Song

Oh where art thou dreaming,

On land, or on sea?

In my lattice is gleaming

The watch-light for thee;

And this fond heart is glowing

To welcome thee home,

And the night is fast going,

But thou art not come:

No, thou com'st not!

'Tis the time when night flowers

Should wake from their rest,

'Tis the hour of all hours

When the lute singeth best,

But the flowers are half sleeping

Till

thy

glance they see;

And the hushed lute is keeping

Its music for thee.

Yet thou com'st not!