|Master John Bonner 1929|
Beneath the quiv’ring leaves, where shelter comes at last,
All sadness sinks to rest, or glides into the past;
Her sweet eyes prison’d now, in their soft silken bars,
O! my love, calm she sleeps beneath the trembling stars.
Ah! wake not yet from thy repose,
A fair dream spirit hovers near thee,
Weaving a web of gold and rose,
Through dream land’s happy isles to bear thee!
Sleep, love, it is not yet the dawn,
Angels guard thee, sweet love, til morn!
English words: S. J. O'Reilly / Music: Benjamin Godard, from his opera "Jocelyn", 1888