That ever before them would flee.
One crept to the couch where an invalid lay,
And brought him a dream of the sweet summer day,
Its bird-song and beauty and bloom;
Till pain was forgotten and weary unrest,
And in fancy he roamed through the scenes he loved best,
Far away from the dim, darkened room.
One stole to the heart of a flower that was sad,
And loved and caressed her until she was glad,
And lifted her white face again;