When twilight comes with shadows drear,
I dream of thee, of thee dear one;
and grows my soul so dark and sad as shadows drear,
They tell me not to grieve love, for thou wilt come,
But oh! I can not tell why I fear their words are false:
I dream of theee, I dream of thee, love! 
And thou art near till I awake.

When I look back, when I look back on happier days,
my eyes are filled with tears;
I see thee then in visions plain, so true, so full of love.
But now I fear to ask them if thou art 'live;
They tell me not to grieve love! 
For thou wilt come at last:
I dream of thee, I dream of thee, love!
And thou art near till I awake.