I
I hear the voice at dead o’ night
And in the sun’s most glorious light
I hear the music of the stars
Beyond those mocking golden bars.
I see that hand, so white and pale
Beckoning from behind the veil
Beckoning me towards lands unknown
Where seek I must, and seek alone.
II
When darkness whispers down my lane
In a soft melodious strain
I know the voice that’s calling me
In silent silver reverie.
I know that beauty-yearn of old
To find that rainbow dream of gold
Away and over hill and dale
Away and pass the hidden veil.
III
And so I follow through the years
Through many hopes and fruitless tears
On stealthy tiptoe follow I
To seek that fleeting lullaby.
Oh! That old-forgotten wonder
Which has torn our hearts asunder
Many a desp’rate man doth seek
Those haunting words of rapture speak.
