(German Air.)

When the first summer bee O'er the young rose shall hover, Then, like that gay rover, I'll come to thee. He to flowers, I to lips, full of sweets to the brim-- What a meeting, what a meeting for me and for him! When the first summer bee, etc.

Then, to every bright tree In the garden he'll wander; While I, oh, much fonder, Will stay with thee. In search of new sweetness thro' thousands he'll run, While I find the sweetness of thousands in one. Then, to every bright tree, etc.

THO' 'TIS ALL BUT A DREAM.