The Children of the World

by Paul Heyse

Hov'ring gently
With smile so bright,
Flooding my lone cell
With golden light,

Till the prisoned soul
From bondage free,
Like opening buds
Unfolds to thee.

Forcing thy way
Over the towers,
Mid roofs, through tree tops,
Among green bowers,

Caressing me gently
Powerful one!
Folding me closely
Beneficent Sun!

Few earthly joys
Have fallen to me,
All I possess
Are given by thee;

Refreshing fruit
Thou dost bestow,
And strengthening bread
As white as snow;

Another gift
The maiden fair,
With rosy cheeks
And golden hair--

Thou mak'st her bloom,
Child of the sun,
A joy and blessing
To me alone,

To this frail form
A halo lend,
Till she draws near
On me to tend.

Of her bereft,
Hopeless I sigh,
Nothing remains
Only to die,