For He accepts the heart’s most humble outpourings.”
He harped awhile, and then he laid him down and wept.
His harp his pillow was; upon a grave he slept.
With sleep his soul was freed from prison and from pain,
The harp and harper both were now made young again.190
His soul, free, wandered forth, exempt from all dull care,
In spacious fields of heaven, the soul’s park, light as air.
There he began to warble, merry as a lark:
“O that I here might dwell without a care to cark!
How joyous I should be in such a paradise;