In Dreamland

IN dreamland is a castle fairWherein my love doth dwell:Its turrets waver into airFrom fields where asphodelAnd 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 perfumeMakes exquisite her shrine.

Still, night by night, the wondrous birdThat ne'er is heard by day,Thrills, with my heart's unspoken word,Those mystic turrets gray,And heavened above, sings to my loveHis plaintive roundelay.Ah, would that I, through tender gloomUpmounting, lover-wise,Might find her in the fragrant room,—Her virgin Paradise,—But for one night behold the lightBeam in her charmèd eyes!

Alas! I shall nor lead her downThe steep and skyey stair,Nor find her here in the dull town,The sunlight on her hair,—Yet, could we meet, my heart would greetAnd know her anywhere!