Prayed that I might only meet him
In a world that’s free from sin.
Tell my mother,—God assist her,
Now that she is growing old,—
That her child would glad have kissed her
When his lips grew pale and cold.
Listen, brother, catch each whisper,
’Tis my wife I’ll speak of now;
Tell, O tell her how I missed her,
When the fever burned my brow.