O sweet illusions of Song,
       &nbsp That tempt me everywhere,
In the lonely fields, and the throng
       &nbsp Of the crowded thoroughfare!

I approach, and ye vanish away,
       &nbsp I grasp you, and ye are gone;
But ever by nigh an day,
       &nbsp The melody soundeth on.

As the weary traveller sees
       &nbsp In desert or prairie vast,
Blue lakes, overhung with trees,
       &nbsp That a pleasant shadow cast;

Fair towns with turrets high,
       &nbsp And shining roofs of gold,
That vanish as he draws nigh,
       &nbsp Like mists together rolled,—

So I wander and wander along,
       &nbsp And forever before me gleams
The shining city of song,
       &nbsp In the beautiful land of dreams.

But when I would enter the gate
       &nbsp Of that golden atmosphere,
It is gone, and I wander and wait
       &nbsp For the vision to reappear.