The Guardian Angel
I’m the spirit Emmalina thy guardian angel, and
Drawn hither by a subtle law but few can understand—
The golden cord of sympathy I leave the summer-land
Thy aching brows with lilies to entwine.
I have watched thee late and early, I have watched thee on
the morn;
And when the sun has left the sky and Luna like a lorn
Dejected maid has brought the hour most prized by hearts,
grief-torn,
I thy aching brows with lilies have entwined.
I have watched thee in the battle with the many ills of life,
And then when sleep has seized thee only to renew the strife
In dreams has made thy woe too rife appear more keen and rife,
I thy aching brows with lilies have entwined.
I have watched when dark and dreary has been thy horoscope,
And when thou strength has needed most with cark and care to cope,
I have nerved thy arm, into thy heart have pour’d the oil of hope—
I thy aching brows with lilies have entwined.
Autres oeuvres par Joseph Skipsey...
