BY JULES VERNE
Dark is the sky,
The sun sinks wearily;
My trembling heart, with sorrow filled,
My sweet child at my songs is smiling still,
While at his tender heart the icicles lie chill.
Child of my dreams!
Thy love doth cheer me;
The cruel biting frost I brave
But to be near thee!
Ah me, Ah me, could these hot tears of mine
But melt the icicles around that heart of thine!
Could we once more
Meet heart to heart,
Thy little hands close clasped in mine,
No more to part.
Then on thy chill heart rays from heaven above
Should fall, and softly melt it with the warmth of love!