Menken, Adah Isaacs
In from the night;
The storm is lifting his black arms up to the sky.
Friend of my heart, who so gently marks out the life
track for me, draw near to-night;
Forget the wailing of the low-voiced wind:
Shut out the meanings of the freezing, and the starving,
and the dying, and bend your head low to me:
Clasp my cold, cold hands in yours;
Think of me tenderly and lovingly:
Look down into my eyes the while I question you, and
if you love me, answer me--
oh, answer me!