@d-pend - - - Here's an hour full of bliss
and calm, and loving's swell—
enchanted glade — what space is this?
and when was it I fell
into you—
and you hold me still,
you ensoul me well;
now will you mold me, fill me,
now enfold me, keep me, still—
and you will keep me still.
Where's a flower ever-ope
who shows a shining face—
of love and faith, of grace and hope
and where's its wat'ring place?
Here — in my bower full of sleep,
does it shine — does it steep
in that grove so wild, deep
does it feed — does it draw;
stream so mild — from the fount,
from the holy mother's maw
does it drink — now recount
all the histories e'er-saw
with the eyes — of sweet youth,
all the memories, the flaw
of that saddest beauty — truth,
sorrow come -- sorrow go,
a fleeting mome, and now I know
where the roots of all things grow:
grows the flow'r -- bud of love,
here below as there, above
stretch the hour, make me full;
honeyed nectar, gently mull
bluest rill -- full of sleep,
and the joy that all things keep
evergreen --
may it keep us still,
may it hold us well.
And may it ever fill
and enwhole-- may it ever-swell:
May it keep our will
and besoul-- and endeep our shell,
may it stay until
time no longer holds a wand'ring sway.
From now until that day
it will keep me,
It will keep me still,
and it will keep me, still.
