VIII.—Serenade.
Awake, beloved ! it is the hour1
When earth is fairyland ;2
The moon looks from her cloudy bow’r,3
The sea sobs on the sand.4
Our steps shall be by the dreaming sea5
And our thoughts shall wander far6
To the happy clime of a future time7
In a new-created star !8
Arise, my fair ! a strange new wind9
Comes kindly down from heaven ;10
Its fingers round my forehead bind11
A chaplet angel-given.12
I’ll sing to thee of the dawns to be13
And the buds that yet shall blow14
In the happy clime of a future time15
Which only the angels know !16