Come not to me when I feel pure But in my darkened spirit's state, All life's discords I endure And through the ages I shall wait To feel your hand upon my brow As I kneel before you incomplete Until the moment when I know That you are all and touch your feet. Come not to me when I am old My body weakened and in pain, The hearth untended, the fire cold, But come to me as I was then Young and joyous in your room, Stunned to silence by your smile Dispelling fear, dispatching gloom, Where I lived eternity awhile. Come now to me, my soul cries out Rework this fading sketch of man. Mother of mine, forget me not And wrap me in your arms again.
Poems Undated (1727)
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Narad
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