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The rivers so sublime they stream, While love is sky and sky is blue; A white winged creature in my dream, Is lulling me a clue: Within the spirit of the Willow, The whispers of the boughs shall cry; For where the mighty angels bellow, There the sound of love won't die. Indeed their song is everdrifting, Neither wind nor clouds could know; That from the heavens they are shifting, Forms of beauty wide to flow. Whisper, whisper, Cherub of mine, Bring me, bring me, to the light; For your wings are so divine, Free me, free me, from the night. In the nethers of my sleep, The mirror of the moon still rove; Tonight the universe is deep, So let me fly with you to love. However the profound explore, We will become the evermore; Over the shore it shall transpire, The things in life I most aspire: To be the angel tall and wan, To see the beauty of the swan. |
