WHEN GREEN LEAVES COME AGAIN.
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These only, twin-archangels, stand
Above the abyss of common doom,
These only stretch the tender hand
To us descending to the tomb,
Thus making it a bed of rest
With spices and with odors drest.
Above the abyss of common doom,
These only stretch the tender hand
To us descending to the tomb,
Thus making it a bed of rest
With spices and with odors drest.
So, like one weary and worn, who sinks
To sleep beneath long faithful eyes,
Who asks no word of love, but drinks
The silence which is paradise—
We only cry—"Keep angelward,
And give us good rest, good Lord!"
To sleep beneath long faithful eyes,
Who asks no word of love, but drinks
The silence which is paradise—
We only cry—"Keep angelward,
And give us good rest, good Lord!"
WHEN GREEN LEAVES COME AGAIN.