I am, you anxious one

I am, you anxious one

Do you not hear me rush to claim you with each eager sense?

And now my feelings have found wings,

And circling whitely fly about your countenance.

And here my spirit in its dress still stands before you,

Oh, do you not see?

In your glance does not my Maytime prayer

Grow to ripeness as upon a tree?

Dreamer, it is I who am your dream

But when you wake, I am your will

And master of all pleasure and I grow to a sphere,

Like stars poised high and still

With time's sing'lar city stretched below.