Oh where art thou dreaming,
On land, or on sea?
In my lattice is gleaming
The watch-light for thee;
And this fond heart is glowing
To welcome thee home,
And the night is fast going,
But thou art not come:
No, thou com'st not!
'Tis the time when night flowers
Should wake from their rest,
'Tis the hour of all hours
When the lute singeth best,
But the flowers are half sleeping
Till thy glance they see;
And the hushed lute is keeping
Its music for thee.
Yet thou com'st not!
Oh where art thou dreaming,
On land, or on sea?
In my lattice is gleaming
The watch-light for thee;
And this fond heart is glowing
To welcome thee home,
And the night is fast going,
But thou art not come:
No, thou com'st not!
'Tis the time when night flowers
Should wake from their rest,
'Tis the hour of all hours
When the lute singeth best,
But the flowers are half sleeping
Till thy glance they see;
And the hushed lute is keeping
Its music for thee.
Yet thou com'st not!