CHARLEY AND HIS FATHER.
a ballad.
The birds are flown away,
The flowers are dead and gone;
The clouds look cold and gray
Around the setting sun.
The flowers are dead and gone;
The clouds look cold and gray
Around the setting sun.
The trees, with solemn sighs,
Their naked branches swing;
The winter winds arise,
And mournfully they sing.
Their naked branches swing;
The winter winds arise,
And mournfully they sing.
Upon his father's knee
Was Charley's happy place,
And very thoughtfully
He looked up in his face:
Was Charley's happy place,
And very thoughtfully
He looked up in his face:
And these his simple words:
"Father, how cold it blows!
What 'comes of all the birds
Amidst the storms and snows?"
"Father, how cold it blows!
What 'comes of all the birds
Amidst the storms and snows?"
"They fly far, far away
From storms and snows and rain:
But, Charley dear, next May
They 'll all come back again."
From storms and snows and rain:
But, Charley dear, next May
They 'll all come back again."
