FLIGHT THE THIRD.

FLIGHT THE THIRD.

1873.

FATA MORGANA.

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 night and by 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 for ever 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.