  Hangs stormed with stars the night, Deep over deep, A majesty, a might, To feel and keep. 2 Ah! what is such and such, Love, canst thou tell? That shrinks—though 'tis not much— To weep farewell. 3 That hates the dawn and lark; Would have the wail,— Sobbed through the ceaseless dark,— O' the nightingale. 4 Yes, earth, thy life were worth Not much to me, Were there not after earth Eternity. 5> God gave thee life to keep— And what hath life?— Love, faith, and care, and sleep Where dreams are rife. 6 Death's sleep, whose shadows start The tears in eyes Of love, that fill the heart That breaks and dies. 7 And faith is never given Without some care, That leadeth us to heaven By ways of prayer. 8 The nightingale and dark Are thine then here; Beyond, the light and lark Eternal there. |
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