Night
I
love
the
silent
hour
of
night,
For
blissful
dreams
may
then
arise,
Revealing
to
my
charmed
sight
What
may
not
bless
my
waking
eyes.
And
then
a
voice
may
meet
my
ear,
That
death
has
silenced
long
ago;
And
hope
and
rapture
may
appear
Instead
of
solitude
and
woe.
Cold
in
the
grave
for
years
has
lain
The
form
it
was
my
bliss
to
see;
And
only
dreams
can
bring
again,
The
darling
of
my
heart
to
me.
