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, I have gathered flowers, And wreathed them round thy shrine; And every rose I offer thee Is wet with tears of mine.

Madonna, I am kneeling here; Yet will they not depart, The earthly hopes and earthly fears That war within my heart.

I strive to only pray for peace, To only think of thee; Alas! my wild and wandering thoughts Ill with my words agree.

Madonna, 'tis in vain to strive; My lips may move in prayer, But thou canst read my inmost soul, And other thoughts are there.

Thou knowest all my wretchedness, Thou knowest all my love; Oh! mother dear, look down on me, I dare not look above,