Birds of Passage (Collection)/Fata Morgana

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

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

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

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

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

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