She turns in her dream to the open window,
She turns in her dream to you.
Oh, flower of the honeysuckle,
Tell me how tenderly out of the dew
You breathe her a dream of that night of wonder
When life was fashioned anew.
Oh, flower of the honeysuckle,
Tell me how long ere, the sweet night through,
She will turn not to you but to me in the darkness,
And dream and desire come true.