One more dream in the slow night watches,
One more sleep when the world is dumb,
And his soul leans out to the sweet wild snatches
Of song that up from dreamland come.

Pale, pale face with a golden setting,
Deep, deep glow of stedfast eyes;
Form of one there is no forgetting,
Wandering out of Paradise.

Breath of balm, and a languor falling
Out of the gleam of a sunset sky;
Peace, deep peace and a seraph’s calling,
Folded hands and a pleading cry.

One more dream for the patient singer,
Weary with songs he loved so well;
Sleeping now—will the vision bring her?
Hark, ‘tis the sound of the passing bell!