  SING on, sing on: half dreaming still I hear you singing down the hill, Through the green wood, beside the rill. Each to the other sing, sweet birds; Make music sweeter far than words; Drown my still soul with song, sweet birds. Under each starbeam there was sleep; Far down the river wandered deep; The woods closed round it still and steep. One watch-dog from the lone farm bayed; The waterfowl beneath the shade Of sedge and flowering reed were laid. The birds sang on, and slumber shed Like silver clouds upon my head; I slept, nor stirred me in my bed. Into my room he seemed to glide; The moonbeams through the window wide Snowed in upon my white bedside. He kissed my lips, he kissed my cheek; I could not kiss him back nor speak: I feared the blissful sleep to break. Sing louder, nightingales of May! Sing, dash my golden dream away! Sing anthems to the orient day! The moonlight pales; the gray cock crows; A murmur in the tree top goes; Sleep sheds her petals like a rose. |
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