Fain would I be to thee, my sister sweet,
Like the bright cloud beneath Aurora's feet
A pedestal to help thee mount on high
Into the blessed peace of the blue sky.

The zephyr would I be, to which is given
To waft the rose's fragrance up to heaven,
That thy pure soul, amid life's stress and strain,
Might not exhale its perfume sweet in vain.

Fain would I be to thee as crystal dew
Of morn, that doth the young flower's sap renew.
And with its vapour veils her from the sun,
Lest thy fresh heart be seared ere day is done.

Fain would I be to thee a nightingale,
Telling within thine ear so sweet a tale;
No meaner strain thine eyes with sleep should dim.
And thou shouldst wake to hear a sacred hymn.

Fain would I be to thee a broad-armed tree
That casts wide shadow on the sultry lea,
And cheers from far the wandering traveller's view;
So would my love shed o'er thee shade and dew.

Fain would I be to thee a refuge sure,
As 'neath the thatch the swallow builds secure.
A humble roof, it yet the rain can ward;
So I from storms thine innocence would guard.

Ah! when to thee this world, as yet unknown,
Its barren hopes, its bitterness hath shown,
Fain, fain would I bring comfort in that hour
To thy sad heart. Oh, would I had the power!