From An Old Musician In The Van Tassel Parlor
by Adrienne
Baltus, no gay, light-tripping waltz
can remedy the deep shadows
falling upon your house and halls,
swift-galloping through your meadows.
The violin weeps at my touch;
no song that I know how to play
could matter a trifle as much
as one forgotten yesterday.
Bist du bei mir, it whispers low,
geh ich mit freuden, zum störben
und zu meine ruh, while below
someone weeps prayers to heaven.
Art thou near? Then am I joyful,
for thy sweet hands my dying eyes
will softly close, and singing lull
my soul to sleep in paradise.
