Go, now, and dream o'er that joy in thy slumber—

Moments so sweet again ne'er shalt thou number.

Of Pain's bitter draught the flavor ne'er flies,

While Pleasure's scarce touches the lip ere it dies.

  Go, then, and dream, etc.

That moon, which hung o'er your parting, so splendid,

Often will shine again, bright as she then did—

But, never more will the beam she saw burn

In those happy eyes, at your meeting, return.

  Go, then, and dream, etc.