Detdiar sidj as efterluket wurden.
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Now must she lose her ? will she die ?
Old dame, the cruel thought forbear —
'Twill slay thee ; turn again to prayer ;
God will not leave thee utterly !
She stirs, she speaks, thy foster-child —
Listen if still her words be wild !
"Gerda ! art here ? Oh, I have seen
A vision of such bliss to-night,
A glory so exceeding bright,
God's paradise it must have been.
I saw His blessed angels there,
Saints crowned with immortality,
I saw my mother wondrous fair,
And knew her, though none showed it me.
Into her opening arms I flew,
And on her soft and loving breast
She rocked me to a sweeter rest
Than ever weary childhood knew.
It was not sleep, for I could see
