Summer Fête, The - Song

O H , 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;
'T is the hour of all hours,
When the lute singeth best,
But the flowers are half sleeping
Till thy glance they see;
And the husht lute is keeping
Its music for thee.
Yet, thou com'st not!
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