Say, what wondrous dreams
and have not disappeared like bubbles
into barren nothingness?Dreams, that in every hour
of every day bloom most fair,
and with their intimations of heaven
float blissfully through my mind.Dreams, that like rays of glory
penetrate the soul,
there to leave an everlasting imprint;
forgetfulness of all, remembrance of one!
Dreams, like the kiss of the spring sun
drawing blossoms from the snow,
so that to undreamed-of bliss
the new day may welcome them.
So that they may grow and flowers,
Spread their scent as in a dream,
Softly fade upon your breast,
Then sink into their grave.