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But while in scenes of distant joy,
You rove with footstep free,
Soft to your heart, this simple strain
Shall say, "remember me."
Perhaps we part, no more to meet,
And who, my friend, can show
What scenes of sorrow, or of joy,
Await us here below?
Though life to us is in its morn,
And youthful pleasures court,
Its fairest rose conceals a thorn,
Its longest space is short.
But Oh! there is a better state,
Where hopes unfading bloom,
There is a brighter land that gleams
Across the darken'd tomb.
There may we meet, in that blest home,
Where none shall sigh with pain,
Where hours of parting never come,
Nor human frailties stain.
