I was slipping out to dreamland very fast.
When I tho’t about you, and the things you did,
The help you gave, for which I did not ask.
Your unselfishness and kind deeds true,
I could not count the many things you did,
For me, when I was sick, in body and in soul.
My undeserving self grew very, very tired.
With all the counting of them, and I slept.
But, ’twas just to dream again of all these things,
And in my restless sleep, I wept, and wept, and wept.
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n.卷轴,纸卷;(石刻上的)漩涡 | |
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