elegiac.
107
Why should we mourn thee ?
When the exile lone,
Homeward returning, from afar espies
His cot's low roof with verdure overgrown,
'Mid the green foliage where embowered it lies;
And pressing forward with a bounding heart
And quickened footstep, gains the destined spot—
From its loved shelter could we say, Depart,
And seek again the pilgrim's weary lot—
Each hardship o'er, each peril now forgot?
When the exile lone,
Homeward returning, from afar espies
His cot's low roof with verdure overgrown,
'Mid the green foliage where embowered it lies;
And pressing forward with a bounding heart
And quickened footstep, gains the destined spot—
From its loved shelter could we say, Depart,
And seek again the pilgrim's weary lot—
Each hardship o'er, each peril now forgot?
Why should we mourn thee?
Gifted one, thy lyre
Gave the sweet echoes of thy soups warm lay:
Strings such as angels sweep, the golden wire
That vibrates to a seraph's touch of fire;
The holy, holy song
Immortal lips prolong;
These were thy high aspirings, and thy robe of clay,
Bound but thy spirit-wings, which longed to soar away.
Gifted one, thy lyre
Gave the sweet echoes of thy soups warm lay:
Strings such as angels sweep, the golden wire
That vibrates to a seraph's touch of fire;
The holy, holy song
Immortal lips prolong;
These were thy high aspirings, and thy robe of clay,
Bound but thy spirit-wings, which longed to soar away.
