In dreamland is a castle fair
Wherein my love doth dwell:
Its turrets waver into air
From fields where asphodel
And poppy keep not watch, but sleep,
'Neath an enchanter's spell.
Pale offspring of a starlit sky,
One rose—for need like mine—
Has over-climbed the ivies high,
About her sill to twine,
And there, abloom, with rare perfume
Makes exquisite her shrine.
Still, night by night, the wondrous bird
That ne'er is heard by day,
Thrills, with my heart's unspoken word,
Those mystic turrets gray,
And heavened above, sings to my love
His plaintive roundelay.
Ah, would that I, through tender gloom
Might find her in the fragrant room,—
Her virgin Paradise,—
But for one night behold the light
Beam in her charméd eyes!
Alas! I shall nor lead her down
The steep and skyey stair,
Nor find her here in the dull town,
The sunlight on her hair,—
Yet, could we meet, my heart would greet
And know her anywhere!