Lxvi

(Posthumous)

The moon sails slowly in the sky So calmly and so freely; The nightingale wails in the twigs So sweetly and so really.

Thy image stands in front of me So calmly and so freely; The heart in longing wakes and calls So sweetly and so really.

A swarm of songs is circling ’round So calmly and so freely; And into mine eye steals a tear So sweetly and so really.

Now gentle sleep knocks at my door So calmly and so freely-- And I recall Thee to my mind So sweetly and so really.