I dream upon the Fairy Queen,
Beside the silver lake,
I dream when I sleep through the night,
I dream when I’m awake.
I sing a lament to the lost,
The fairy race, I see.
I dream upon the Fairy Queen,
And of the old oak tree.

There’s a whisper on the wind tonight
A sweet savour in the air,
Amid the twilight chorus sounds,
A faerie’s dying prayer.
And on her bed of silver leaves
Her face so pale and fair,
The good queen draws her final breath,
She dies without a care.

The chill of beauty good and bad,
Across the world so wide
Borne aloft by sweet sea breeze,
Borne by streams that cried.
The oak tree bowed his old, wise head,
And deeply sad he sighed,
Thus our sweet Queen lived in peace,
And thus our sweet Queen died.