Thrice cruel Death to sever
Two hearts by love made one;
Though Kate, thou 'rt gone for ever,
I still love fondly on.
But, oh! 'tis useless grieving,
My only joy shall be
The bright hope of believing.
That I may come to thee,
From this cold world thou 'rt vanished,
Yet memory's self must fail,
Ere thy dear form be banished,
Sweet Kate of Norton Vale.
Sweet Kate, Sweet Kate of Norton Vale.
The Promise.
[Published by the permission of W. T. Belcher, Esq., Birmingham, to whom the copyright belongs, and where the Music may be had.]
How well I remember, when I was a child,
The smile of my mother, so gentle and mild,
As I knelt at her feet in an evening to pray,
In words that dear mother had taught me to say.
Again I behold her, with soul-beaming eyes,
As with finger uplifted she points to the skies,
Saying, When we have passed through this sad world of pain,
It is there, dearest Edith, I'll meet thee again,
'Tis there, dearest Edith, I'll meet thee again.
