I ask but one thing of you, only one, 
 That always you will be my dream of you; 
 That never shall I wake to find untrue 
All this I have believed and rested on, 
Forever vanished, like a vision gone 
 Out into the night. Alas, how few 
 There are who strike in us a chord we knew 
Existed, but so seldom heard its tone 
 We tremble at the half-forgotten sound. 
The world is full of rude awakenings 
 And heaven-born castles shattered to the ground, 
Yet still our human longing vainly clings 
 To a belief in beauty through all wrongs. 
 O stay your hand, and leave my heart its songs!