 | Redwald |  |
Oh, Death, most blest, thou art the only balm
For the soul's wounds! thou comforter in pain,
When all is lost that gave the world a charm,
And nought but woe can e'er be felt again!
For the soul's wounds! thou comforter in pain,
When all is lost that gave the world a charm,
And nought but woe can e'er be felt again!
| Redwald | |