O’er all dreams a harp is playing;
In the midst of the forest of youth,
For there trees and flowers are swaying,
And all that is whisper’d is truth.

In a land beyond your knowing
Mountains rise and fall,
And knowlage is ripe for showing,
Come feast at the King’s mighty hall.

For there shalt thee find lords and maids fair,
And there shall thee find hope and light
And look in the darkness on hid mere
And see all the stars of the night.