- Where do you come from, you old angel? - Don't call me that. I'm no angel. - How come? You have wings. All men with wings are angels. - You are not an angel, if you have lost the ability to fly. Just let me think, just let me cry.
Awake, awake my little Boy! Thou wast thy Mother's only joy: Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep? Awake! thy Father does thee keep.
"O, what land is the Land of Dreams? What are its mountains, and what are its streams? O Father, I saw my Mother there, Among the lillies by waters fair.
Among the lambs clothed in white She walked with her Thomas in sweet delight. I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn - O when shall I return again?"
Dear child, I also by pleasant streams Have wandered all night in the Land of Dreams; But though calm and warm the waters wide, I could not get to the other side.
"Father, O Father, what do we here, In this land of unbelief and fear? The Land of Dreams is better far Above the light of the Morning Star."
No comments:
Post a Comment
territorius@gmail.com