I ask but one thing of you, only one,
           That always you will be my dream of you;
           That never shall I wake to find untrue
          All this I have believed and rested on,
          Forever vanished, like a vision gone
           Out into the night. Alas, how few
           There are who strike in us a chord we knew
          Existed, but so seldom heard its tone
           We tremble at the half-forgotten sound.
          The world is full of rude awakenings
           And heaven-born castles shattered to the ground,
          Yet still our human longing vainly clings
           To a belief in beauty through all wrongs.
           O stay your hand, and leave my heart its songs!