STILL in bed I found him lying
Whom I always love to see;
Haply he had feigned slumber
To another friend than me;
But as I was hesitating,
Quarrelling with my own heart,
Half unwilling to awake him,
All unwilling to depart, -
Called he me by name, and turning,
Let me take the wished-for place
By his bedside, leaning o'er him,
Circling him with large embrace.
Just above the snow-white linen
Cherub-like appeared his head,
Seeming like an infant angel
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