MINE.
117
MORAL: ADDED ON HIS DEATH-BED.
Turn the Past's mirror backward. Its shadows removed,
The dim confused mass becomes softened, sublime:
I have worked—I have felt—I have lived—I have loved,
And each was a step towards the goal I now climb:
Thou, God, Thou sawest the good of it.
The dim confused mass becomes softened, sublime:
I have worked—I have felt—I have lived—I have loved,
And each was a step towards the goal I now climb:
Thou, God, Thou sawest the good of it.
MINE.
For a German Air.
HOW my heart is beating as her nameI keep repeating,
And I drink up joy like wine: how my heart is beating as her name
I keep repeating,
For the lovely girl is mine!
She 's rich, she 's fair, beyond compare,
Of noble mind, serene and kind—
