 | Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights |  |
THE TREE OF HEAVEN.
The Rose that all are praising,
Is the Rose that blooms for me—
Whom the Angels now are raising
Over every other tree—
This is the Rose that blooms for me.
Is the Rose that blooms for me—
Whom the Angels now are raising
Over every other tree—
This is the Rose that blooms for me.
In the middle of God's Garden
Grows this white celestial Tree,
And an Angel is the Warden
Of the flowers that bloom for me
In this Eden on this Tree.
Grows this white celestial Tree,
And an Angel is the Warden
Of the flowers that bloom for me
In this Eden on this Tree.
There she grows beside the River
Of immortal life for me,
Where she towers aloft forever
Over every other tree—
This is the Rose that blooms for me.
Of immortal life for me,
Where she towers aloft forever
Over every other tree—
This is the Rose that blooms for me.
64
While the Breezes blow Evangels
From the harp-like boughs for me,
She is tended by the Angels
Over every other tree—
This is the Rose that blooms for me.
From the harp-like boughs for me,
She is tended by the Angels
Over every other tree—
This is the Rose that blooms for me.
Like the Moon star-crowned at even—
(But not half so white as she—)
Circled by the Swans of Heaven—
Blooms this white Celestial Tree
In the Bowers of Bliss for me.
(But not half so white as she—)
Circled by the Swans of Heaven—
Blooms this white Celestial Tree
In the Bowers of Bliss for me.
Thus the Rose that all are praising,
Is the Rose that blooms for me,
Whom the Angels now are raising
Over every other tree—
This is the Rose that blooms for me.
Is the Rose that blooms for me,
Whom the Angels now are raising
Over every other tree—
This is the Rose that blooms for me.
Boston, December 4, 1862.
| Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights | |