Music
Before the dawn is yet the day
I lie and dream so deep,
So drowsy-deep I cannot say
If yet I wake or sleep.
But in my dream a tune there is,
And rings so fresh and sweet
That I would rather die than miss
The utmost end of it.
And yet I know not an it be
Some music in the lane.
Or but a song that rose with me
From sleep, to sink again.
And so, alas, and even so
I waste my life away;
Nor if the tune be real I know,
Or but a dream astray.
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