Little Lottie, let her mind wander, Little Lottie, am I fonder of doors, or of garbens, or of shoes, or of riddles, or of balls, or of chocolates, or of playing the violin, as we read to each other dark stories in the morning. Oh, what I love best, Lottie said, is when I'm asleep in my bed, and the angel of music sings songs in my head. Insolent boy, this slave of passion, basking in your glory, eager and fool, this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph. Angel, I hear you speak, I listen, stay by my side, guide me. Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me, enter at last, master. Mattering child, you have no need, see why in shadow I hide. Look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside. Angel of music, guide and guard you, come to me all the way. Angel of music, I need you longer, come to me sweetly too. I am your angel, come to me angel of music. I am your angel of music, come to me angel of music. Christine! Angel!