SONG OF THE DREAM‑SPIRITS TO FANNY

From the beach and from the billow

      Rapturously loud,

From the zephyr that doth pillow

      All his softness on a cloud;

From the murmur of the river,

From the leaves that rustle ever,

      Joyously we come.

We are bright and we are many

      As the early drops of dew,

And we come to little Fanny

      As the day to you;

From the keenness of the mountain,

From the sparkle of the fountain,

      Joyously we come.

From the hill and from the valley,

      From the mountain and the vale;

From the evening melancholy

Where all hath a tale;

      From the sweetness of the meadow,

From the coolness of the shadow,

      Joyously we come.

ln the sadness of the willow,

      In the homely nest

We have dwelt and had a pillow

      In the poet's breast;

And from all things dimly moving

Human souls to bliss and loving

      Joyously we come.