Wake thee, my dear—thy dreaming

  Till darker hours will keep;

While such a moon is beaming,

  'Tis wrong towards Heaven to sleep.

Moments there are we number,

  Moments of pain and care,

Which to oblivious slumber

  Gladly the wretch would spare.

But now,—who'd think of dreaming

  When Love his watch should keep?

While such a moon is beaming,

  'Tis wrong towards Heaven to sleep.

If e'er the fates should sever

  My life and hopes from thee, love,

The sleep that lasts for ever

  Would then be sweet to me, love;

But now,—away with dreaming!

  Till darker hours 'twill keep;

While such a moon is beaming,

  'Tis wrong towards Heaven to sleep.