TO ONE WHO SLEEPS
Fare not too far, my own,
Down ways all strange and new,
For I must find alone,
The road that leads to you.
Enchantments may arise
To lure thy little feet,
And charm thy wondering eyes;—
Yet;—wait for me, my sweet!
Already Earth doth seem
A phantom place to me,
And thy far home of dream,
Is my reality.
So this is just "good night";—
Some stars will rise and wane,
But sure as comes the light,
I'll be with thee again!—