The birds sleeping gently,
Sweet Luna gleameth bright,
Her rays tinge the forest,
And all seems glad tonight.
The wind sighing by me,
Cooling my fevered brow;
The stream flows as ever,
Yet Alice, where art thou?
One year back this even,
And thou wert by my side,
Vowing to love me,
What e'er might betide!

The silver rain falling
Just as it falleth now,
And all things slept gently;
Oh! Alice, where art thou?
I've sought thee by lakelet,
I've sought thee on the hill
And in the pleasant wild-wood,
When winds blow cold and chill.
I've sought thee in forest,
I'm looking heav'nward now -
Oh! there 'mid the star-shine,
Alice, I know, art thou!