Sweet white mother of rose-white dreams,
Through my windows the song of birds pours in
And the sunlight on to my table streams.
As a clear globe prisons the golden light,
So I prison the dreams you shed on me,
Sweet white mother of dreams rose-white.
In a crystal globe I prison all things:
Sound is frozen to silence there;
Cover me over with wide white wings,
Prison my life in thy crystal sphere,
As a clear globe prisons the golden light,
Sweet white mother of dreams rose-white.