Poems (Schiller)/Dreaming
For works with similar titles, see Dreaming.
DREAMING
'Tis evening; the pale moon is gleaming Far up in the starry sky;And I, in the darkness am dreaming, Of years that have flitted by.
I sit with my weary hands folded, And gaze at the flames as they glow;'Till I fancy the embers are moulded, In forms that I loved long ago.
Fair memory points to the hours, That knew not of sorrow and strife;When palm trees, and fountains and flowers, Made goodly the scenes of my life.
But oh! there's an end to life's Elim, For sorrow must come to us all;The palm and the flowers will wither, The fountains will turn into gall.
But hope with pearly white fingers, Points away to the land of the blest;And fondly my sad heart lingers, On the promise of future rest.
Ere long I shall enter the portals, Where God in His fullness is known;And join with star-crowned immortals, In worship before His throne.March 9, 1868.