by Francis Thompson (1859 - 1907)
Translation © by Tim Palmer

Dream tryst
Language: English 
Available translation(s): FRE
The breaths of kissing night and day
  Were mingled in the eastern Heaven:
Throbbing with unheard melody,
  Shook Lyra all its [star-chord]1 seven:
    When dusk [shrank]2 cold, and light trod shy,
      And dawn's gray eyes were troubled gray;
    And souls went palely up to the sky,
      And mine to Lucidè.

There was no change in her sweet eyes
  Since last I saw those sweet eyes shine;
There was no change in her deep heart
  Since last that deep heart knocked at mine.
    Her eyes were clear, her eyes were Hope's,
      Wherein did ever come and go
    The sparkle of the fountain-drops
      From her sweet soul below.

The chambers in the house of dreams
  Are fed with so divine an air
That Time's hoar wings grow young therein,
  And they who walk there are most fair.
    I joyed for me, I joyed for her,
      Who with the Past meet girt about:
    Where [our]3 last kiss still warms the air,
      Nor can her eyes go out.

View original text (without footnotes)

Confirmed with A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895, ed. by Edmund Clarence Stedman, Cambridge: Riverside Press, 1895.

1 Holst: "star-cloud"
2 Holst: "shrank"
3 Holst: "her"


Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • FRE French (Français) (Tim Palmer) , title 1: "Rencontre en rêve", copyright © 2017, (re)printed on this website with kind permission

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 24
Word count: 164

Rencontre en rêve
Language: French (Français)  after the English 
Les haleines des baisers nuit et jour
se mélangaient dans les cieux de l’orient:
palpitant avec de la mélodie non-entendue
secouaient les sept étoiles de Lyra:
Quand le crepuscule reculait froid, et la lumière marchait timidement,
et les yeux gris de l’aube étaient troublés gris:
et des âmes montaient le ciel pâlement,
et la mienne à Lucidè.

Ses doux yeux n’avaient pas changé
depuis la dernière fois que j’ai vu briller ces yeux:
son cœur profond n’avait pas changé
depuis la dernière fois que son cœur a frappé au mien.
Ses yeux étaient clairs, ses yeux appartenaient l’Espoir
dans quoi viennent et vont toujours
l’étincelle des gouttes de la fontaine
de son âme doux dessous.

Les chambres dans la maison des rêves
sont alimentées d’un air tellement divin,
que les ailles grises du Temps deviennent jeunes là-dedans,
et ceux qui y marchent sont extrèmement beaux.
J’ai réjoui pour moi, j’ai réjoui pour elle,
qui avec le Passé se rencontrent entourés:
où notre dernier baiser chauffe l’air toujours,
ni peuvent ses yeux s’éteindre.


  • Translation from English to French (Français) copyright © 2017 by Tim Palmer, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.

Based on


This text was added to the website: 2017-07-07
Line count: 24
Word count: 172