 | On two strings |  |
25
LONGING.
The maid I sing
Is human Spring!
My joy and rest
Are in her breast.
Is human Spring!
My joy and rest
Are in her breast.
She comes and beams
On me in dreams;
But never gives
The kiss that lives.
On me in dreams;
But never gives
The kiss that lives.
Yet God He knows
My longing grows,
As grey hairs come,
For babe and home.
My longing grows,
As grey hairs come,
For babe and home.
| On two strings | |