Oft I used to think of far-reaching lanes,
Of flowery banks, and palmy plains.
Of lonely lion in his kingdom vast,
Of ruined cities, and of all the past.
Of mountain ranges, of the ocean’s swell,
Of golden castles, crystal sea as well.
But now, oh God, I think of nothing more,
But of the darling, and the love I bore.
Now I only think, in cold and in snow,
If you lonely feel in your mound so low?
If you lonely feel in your coffin narrow,
Metal bound and strong, but oh so narrow?
And I think perhaps my little one sees me,
And my heart is faint, and my tears fall free.
And I think, yes day and night, I ponder
Fearest thou in thy white shroud, over yonder?
Then the thought comes o’er me, thou wilt take me;
As I took thee in my arms, and hushed thee
When you used to cry, and my soul grows weak,
And my heart weeps for the child it would seek.
And I think that after this sad sorrow,
I shall clasp thee in the great to-morrow.