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4
NATIONAL LYRICS.
Where'er a chieftain's crested brow
Too soon hath been struck down,
Or a bright virgin head laid low,
Wearing its youth's first crown.
Where'er a spire points up to heaven,
Through storm and summer air,
Telling, that all around have striven
Man's heart, and hope, and prayer.
Where'er a blessed Home hath been,
That now is Home no more:
A place of ivy, darkly green,
Where laughter's light is o'er.
Where'er, by some forsaken grave,
Some nameless greensward heap,
A bird may sing, a wild flower wave,
A star its vigil keep.
