Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - Fata Morgana lyrics

O sweet illusions of Song,   That tempt me everywhere, In the lonely fields, and the throng   Of the crowded thoroughfare! I approach, and ye vanish away,   I grasp you, and ye are gone; But ever by nigh an day,   The melody soundeth on. As the weary traveller sees   In desert or prairie vast, Blue lakes, overhung with trees,   That a pleasant shadow cast; Fair towns with turrets high,   And shining roofs of gold, That vanish as he draws nigh,   Like mists together rolled,— So I wander and wander along,   And forever before me gleams The shining city of song,   In the beautiful land of dreams. But when I would enter the gate   Of that golden atmosphere, It is gone, and I wander and wait   For the vision to reappear.