46
And is my mother dead?
Is her pure spirit fled?
Oh no! it cannot be:
She'd not have left me here
To shed the bitter tear
Of misery.
Is her pure spirit fled?
Oh no! it cannot be:
She'd not have left me here
To shed the bitter tear
Of misery.
Alas! she cannot hear!
No more upon her ear
Will sound her daughter's voice;
That voice which always made
Her tender heart rejoice
With gladness.
No more upon her ear
Will sound her daughter's voice;
That voice which always made
Her tender heart rejoice
With gladness.
Then hide me from the light!
Shroud me in darkest night,
For all my peace is flown.
Shroud me in darkest night,
For all my peace is flown.
