Time Heals All Wounds

No better healer e'er was known than time

Which ever swiftly flies,
Whate'er my sufferings are now, his art

H.e'll promptly exercise:
My woe which now 's a dark and stormfilled cloud,

Shall soon calm moonray be
Which spreads bright light over my memories'

Unruffled, placid sea.

The never tiring hands of fate might yet

A garland weave, thereby
My love of life and convalescent heart

A-strength'ning vivify.
It is conceived with ease how sad shall be

The speech, the flowing tears,
Wherewith the broken heart fore'er takes leave

Of joyful hopes and cheers.

It is for this that now when cold and bare

And hopeless is my breast,
It is for this that now I'm fond to go

Where sweet Ethel 's at rest.
Embrace, oh death, my weary life! How sweet

It would be now to die,
As sweet as for the little babe it is

On mothers breast to lie.

And when I die one sole and only wish

I leave. I humbly crave
That I be laid to my eternal sleep

Close to my sweetheart's grave.
Each midnight we to each other our dreams

A-whispering convey.
We'll rise together at the angel's call

On resurrection-dav!