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dreams.
Foldeth its wings contentedly,
And nestles as a dove,—
They come, they hold me in their arms;
My heart, with joy oppressed,
Seems panting 'neath its blessed weight,
And swooning in my breast;
My eyes look up through tears of bliss,
Like flowers through dews of even,
There 's a painful fulness in my lips,
Till the kiss of love is given;—
When, sudden, their fresh glowing lips
Are colorless and cold,
And an icy, shrouded corse is all
My shuddering arms enfold!
And nestles as a dove,—
They come, they hold me in their arms;
My heart, with joy oppressed,
Seems panting 'neath its blessed weight,
And swooning in my breast;
My eyes look up through tears of bliss,
Like flowers through dews of even,
There 's a painful fulness in my lips,
Till the kiss of love is given;—
When, sudden, their fresh glowing lips
Are colorless and cold,
And an icy, shrouded corse is all
My shuddering arms enfold!
Have I my guardian angels grieved,
That they have taken flight?
Or frown'st thou on me, O my God,
In the visions of the night?
Yet with a child's fond faith I rest
Still on thy fatherhood,—
Speak peace unto my troubled dreams,
Thou merciful and good!
And, O, if cares and griefs must come,
And throng my humble way,
That they have taken flight?
Or frown'st thou on me, O my God,
In the visions of the night?
Yet with a child's fond faith I rest
Still on thy fatherhood,—
Speak peace unto my troubled dreams,
Thou merciful and good!
And, O, if cares and griefs must come,
And throng my humble way,
