… Perhaps I see you again in years,
In a garden of immigrants with tears!
My eyes maybe awake,
Bring my name to your memory, then partake…
… Perhaps in almighty hand,
I would be a child, starry band!
… You may be my mother every night!
Above me with heart of delight…
… Perhaps then I’ll be a mountain.
Perhaps my streaming maintain!
With your touch, last gleaming,
That you have memory of me, streaming!! ….