Oh! the dreamers of heaven, have you just dreamt of heaven?
Have you seen it? Have you felt it?
Obviously not, So here am I
Here I am the one who has seen the scenes of heaven. ...
Still sing the mocking fairies, as of old,
Beneath the shade of thorn and holly-tree;
The west wind breathes upon them, pure and cold,
And wolves still dread Diana roaming free
In secret woodland with her company.
'Tis thought the peasants' hovels know her rite
When now the wolds are bathed in silver light,
And first the moonrise breaks the dusky grey,
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