OVER the hills where the moon hangs low In the mystic eastern night, Building her castles light On the silvery floor of the ocean's foam, In the track of the path that leads to home, — (For the sea is eternity And our home is infinity), There where the tides lead out of time Through the moon-built gates to another clime, — Take me, O Hermes, fast in thy flight Into those castles, ivory white, Ere the nymph of sleep her potion applies, Casting the magic over mine eyes, That I may just one vision win Of the place where my dreams have origin. |