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When stars are in the quiet skies, | |
Then most I pine for thee; | |
Bend on me then thy tender eyes, | |
As stars look on the sea! | |
For thoughts, like waves that glide by night, | |
Are stillest when they shine; | |
Mine earthly love lies hush’d in light | |
Beneath the heaven of thine. | |
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There is an hour when angels keep | |
Familiar watch o’er men, | |
When coarser souls are wrapp’d in sleep— | |
Sweet spirit, meet me then! | |
There is an hour when holy dreams | |
Through slumber fairest glide; | |
And in that mystic hour it seems | |
Thou shouldst be by my side. | |
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My thoughts of thee too sacred are | |
For daylight’s common beam: | |
I can but know thee as my star, | |
My angel and my dream; | |
When stars are in the quiet skies, |
|
Then most I pine for thee; | |
Bend on me then thy tender eyes, | |
As stars look on the sea! |
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