Light not one taper yet;
  The tiniest gleam
Would break the reverie he keeps
  With his long dream.

Dreams are above him,
  Dreams in the midnight air
Weave sweet enchantments
  That he cannot hear.

Yet, see, he stirs --
  Or does the moonlight creep
With ghostly fingers
  To disturb his sleep?

Nay, but go quietly
  Through the half open door.
He is a dreamer
  Who will wake no more.