Around those lips now pale and cold.
O! ever thus, as Night repeats
Her silent star-watch, come to me!
More dear than all which living greets
My waking eye, a dream of thee.
THE DREAM IS PAST.
COMPOSED BY
STEPHEN GLOVER.
———
Around those lips now pale and cold.
O! ever thus, as Night repeats
Her silent star-watch, come to me!
More dear than all which living greets
My waking eye, a dream of thee.
COMPOSED BY
STEPHEN GLOVER.
———