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Last night the nightingale woke me,
Last night when all was still;
It sang in the golden moonlight
>From out the woodland hill.

I opened my window so gently,
I looked on the morning dew,
And oh, the bird, my darling, was singing,
Singing sweet songs of you.

I think of you in the daytime,
I dream of you by night;
I wake and wish you were here, dear,
And tears are blinding my sight.

I hear low whispers in the pine trees,
A-floating through and through,
And oh the wind, my darling, is sighing,
Oh sighing for you, for you.

The stream, the night, the woods a-flowing,
The stars above the blue,
All heaven itself, my darling, is dreaming,
Dreaming and praying for you.

Just dreaming of you, sweetheart!

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