O how quick, and yet how soft
Comes the moonlight from aloft—
From the happy starry skies,
Like the smiles of angels' eyes,
Flinging all the silvery whiteness
Of its purity and brightness
On the stream
That dances up with laughter
As the wavelets follow after
Each other in the glee
Of a pleasant symphony.
I stand upon the bridge,
Leaning on its narrow ledge,
Keeping watch with dreaming eye
On the river gliding by,
Till I fancy from the deeps,
Where the moonlight sits and sleeps,
I can hear a whisper say—
'Come away, come away,
Come, and never know decay,
Come, and rest beneath the stream,
And for ever smile and dream.
Through the night and sunny day,
Dream of things with joyance rife,
Dream of all that makes this life
Bright and gay.
While the waters ebb and creep
With their murmurs o'er thy sleep—
While the moonlight from above
Rains the pale wealth of her love
On the wave, on thy grave—
Come away.'
And I feel a strong desire
Burning in me to inquire
What this gentle sprite may be,
Who sings such a song to me
From the stream.
For, as I hear his lay,
Like a voice from far away,
With its burden, 'Come away,'
I can reason thus how sweet
To let all the waters meet
O'er the weary, dreamy head;
And to sink, as in a bed,
In the tide, and there to lie
All the night and watch the sky;
Or sleep, sleep, sleep,
While the breezes come and creep—
And what mortal would not sleep
To such soothing lullaby,
While the happy moon above
Would fling down her wealth of love
On the wave, on my grave,
On my dream.