Here,where God lives among the trees,
Where birds and monks the whole day sing
His praises in a pleasant ease,
Oh heart,might we not find a home
Here,after all our wandering?
These gates are closed, even on Rome.
Souls of the twilight wander here ;
Here,in the garden of that death
Which was for love's sake,need we fear
How sharp with bitter joy might be
Love's lingering, last,longed-for breath,
Shut in upon eternity?
Δεν υπάρχουν σχόλια:
Δημοσίευση σχολίου