SONGS OF LA MOUCHE.
Mother of Heaven, I pray thee
Hear but this prayer of mine,
And my scoffing lover shall worship
Each Sunday at thy shrine.
Hear but this prayer of mine,
And my scoffing lover shall worship
Each Sunday at thy shrine.
Let him rise again and stand upright,
Heal thou his hideous pain:
Let him see the leaves in the spring-time,
The sweet earth after rain.
Heal thou his hideous pain:
Let him see the leaves in the spring-time,
The sweet earth after rain.
Perhaps his sins are so many
Thou wilt not make him whole;
Grant only that on crutches
He may come, to save his soul.
Thou wilt not make him whole;
Grant only that on crutches
He may come, to save his soul.
For thy great fame 'twere better
He were not healed outright:
For then no shrine he'd visit,
But royster through the night.
He were not healed outright:
For then no shrine he'd visit,
But royster through the night.
Paris, April, 1855.
34
