Mirage
Language: English 
I hold thy hand, and straight from over sea
Troops of dear visions come,
The hot East passes, and I seem to be
Under cool skies at home.

I hold thy hand, and violets are born, 
And gold-white daisies hide;
The drowsy poppy nods amid the corn, 
The primrose nestles by the river side.

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Text Authorship:

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):


Researcher for this page: Joost van der Linden [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2025-07-25
Line count: 8
Word count: 54