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POEMS. 497
Come into love’s sheltering place;
By my heart thy bosom warm :
Chilly blows the wind.
To my breast O woman turn!
Wilt thou be my own?
Let the whole world freeze like stone,
Ever I for thee will burn:
Chilly blows the wind.
Bertha, by love’s radiance taken,
Lover’s vows believes ;
But for distant shores he leaves:
O’er the heart of the forsaken
Chilly blows the wind.
Bertha prays as time goes slowly:
Lord, be kind to me;
Take my child and me to thee,
Let me in the grave lie lowly:
Chilly blows the wind.
’T is the last hour — by the dying,
Weeping kindred stay ;
Sorrowful for her they pray,
In the dread death conflict lying
Chilly blows the wind.
\
Farewell! Brothers, sisters, hear me!
Pardon me, O Lord!
And to him thy grace afford ;
Death approacheth —standeth near me:
Chilly blows the wind.
In the grave is Bertha sleeping,
Late so young and warm,
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