Song

When I an infant, peaceful lay
Upon my loving Mother's breast,
She softly sung me, night and day,
Sweet lullabies of faith and rest.

Through all my youth, through all my years,
Her gentle songs have followed me,
The tender fountain of my tears
Leaps up at their dear melody.

So all my days are days of song,
And when shall come my life's eclipse,
O happy fate, to drift along
To death with songs upon my lips.
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.