Midnight rests upon the city
Through whose shaded streets I go;
An hour ago all smiled or sorrowed;
The hour is past,—they're dreaming now.
Pleasure like a flower has faded;
Drained the wine-cup's sparkling stream;
Grief's fires, like the sun, are shaded,
That the weary world may dream,
Let it dream, then!
Let it dream!

All my haste and all my anger,
Shivering, broken, fly away,
As I see the moon in slumber,
Resting from her strife with day.
Light as whispers, soft as starlight,
Through all space my spirit goes,—
Light as sound and still as starlight
Visits men in their repose,
In the secrets
Of their dreams.

Here a palace stands before me;
Ha! its dreamer flies abroad!
Craven, careworn, and remorse-worn,
See him, trembling, seek his sword!
Hist! In flight a thousand coursers
Bear him from his throne away,—
Ha! He falls on earth, and yawning
She engulfs him as her prey!
God of vengeance,
Let him dream!

Everywhere the spirit enters:
Ope we here the prison door,—
Germany, thy sons are fettered
For the love of thee they bore!
Here the captive sleeps forgetful;
Does he dream of freedom now?
Does he dream of battles over,
Victory's garland on his brow?
God of Freedom,
Let him dream!

Yet a step, and here the cabin
Of the tiller of the soil.
To his slumber God has given
Dreams which pay for daylight's toil.
Every seed which Morpheus scatters
Gives a golden harvest birth,—
Fills the dreamer's little cottage
With the treasures of the earth.
God, who carest for the poor man,
Let him dream!

Here I pause to speak my blessing!
Dearest, who art life to me,
You are not my only loved one,—
Freedom shares my heart with thee!
While the stainless doves of promise
To your cradle blessings bore,
Round me in my baby slumbers
Pranced mad coursers wild for war.
While I dream of Freedom's eagles,
Of the bold, unflinching eye,
Dearest, in more peaceful slumbers
You shall watch the butterfly.
God of love,
Oh, let her dream!