SHE cometh like the sweet reprieving morn,
Clad in her flowing robes of golden light;
God’s angel of the day to clear the sight
Of him condemned long years, and left forlorn,
Deep in the dungeon of his loveless life,
With every yearning for a love supreme—
Love shining only in a cruel dream!
And now his love appears to end the strife.
Oh, love, thou gentle messenger, bend down,
Thy touch is soothing and thy smile is kind;
Speak to this sorrowing heart and bid its fears
Be gone forevermore. When as thy crown
Appears at dawn, and night flies on the wind,
So banish all my sorrows and their tears.