I come in the breath of the waken'd breeze,
I kiss the flowers, and I bend the trees;
And I shake the dew, which hath fallen by night,
From its throne, on the lily's pure bosom of white.
Awake thee, when bright from my couch in the sky,
I beam o'er the mountains, and come from on high:
When my gay purple banners are waving afar;
When my herald, gray dawn, hath extinguish'd each star:
When I smile on the woodlands, I bid thee awake!
Then awake thee, O maiden, I bid thee awake!
Thou may'st slumber when all the wide arches of heaven
Glitter bright with the beautiful fires of even;
When the moon walks in glory, and looks from on high,
O'er the clouds floating far through the clear azure sky;
Drifting on like the beautiful vessels of heaven,
To their far-away harbour, all silently driven;
Bearing on, in their bosoms, the children of light,
Who have fled from this dark world of sorrow and night;
When the lake lies in calmness and darkness, save where
The bright ripple curls, 'neath the smile of a star;
When all is in silence and solitude here,
Then sleep, maiden, sleep! without sorrow or fear!
But when I steal silently over the lake,
Awake thee then, maiden, awake! oh, awake!