A dewy flower, bathed in crimson light, May touch the soul--a pure and beauteous sight; A golden river flashing 'neath the sun, May reach the spot where life's dark waters run;...
There's a beautiful lake where the sun lies low, And the skies are warm with their summer glow; And a beautiful picture there I see Where the winds are warm and the waves are free,...
She stood by my side with a queenly air, Her face it was young and proud and fair; She held my rose in her hands of snow; It crimsoned her face with a deeper glow; The sunlight drooped in her eyes of fire...
The crown of stars is broken in parts, Its jewels brighter than the day, Have one by one been stolen away To shine in other homes and hearts. --[Hanging of the Crane.]