It was a dream, as bright as e'er
Yet glanc'd upon a sleeper's brain;
For fancy's witching wing was there,
And love had gilded slumber's chain.
There was an eye, like noontide light,
A voice, like notes of minstrelsy;
That voice was soft, those eyes were bright,
For, oh! they breathed of love to me.
There was a form of loveliness,
Whose look of tenderness was mine;
My Katherine, dear, canst thou not guess,
That form of loveliness was thine?
And smil'st thou at my dream, my love?
No more a vision let it be;
But bid the dreamer's slumber prove
An image of reality.