117
Giving unto thy lovely face
A pensive twilight ray,
Like that, which tints the summer sky
When sunbeams fade away.
A pensive twilight ray,
Like that, which tints the summer sky
When sunbeams fade away.
Sweetly from thy deep dreaming breast,
Thy thoughts are gushing now,
Like perfume up to Him, who threw
Such beauty o'er thy brow;
Thoughts, lovelier, holier far than those
That haunt thy waking hours,
And fresh as dew-drops on the leaves
Of odor-breathing flowers.
Thy thoughts are gushing now,
Like perfume up to Him, who threw
Such beauty o'er thy brow;
Thoughts, lovelier, holier far than those
That haunt thy waking hours,
And fresh as dew-drops on the leaves
Of odor-breathing flowers.
I would that thou should'st ever be
Thus free from weary care,
That thy young brow its holy calm
On earth may ever wear,
But, as such perfect happiness
To mortals is not given,
I'd have thee dream thy life away,
And only wake in heaven.
Thus free from weary care,
That thy young brow its holy calm
On earth may ever wear,
But, as such perfect happiness
To mortals is not given,
I'd have thee dream thy life away,
And only wake in heaven.
