Was it the sun that broke my dream

or was’t the dazzle of thy hair

caught where our olden meadows seem

themselves again and yet more fair?

Ah, sun that woke me, limpid stream,

then in spring-mornings’ rapture of air!

Was it the sun that broke my dream

or was ‘t the dazzle of thy hair?

And didst not thou beside me gleam,

brought hither by a tender care

at least my slumbering grief to share?

Are only the cold seas supreme?

Was it the sun that broke my dream?