COMES THY SPIRIT O'ER THE WATERS.
Comes thy spirit o'er the waters,
When the stars wake in the west,
Like a bird of passage, back again
To its deserted nest?
Methinks it wanders by,
When none are lingering nigh,
To breathe upon my longing soul
A last and farewell sigh.
When the stars wake in the west,
Like a bird of passage, back again
To its deserted nest?
Methinks it wanders by,
When none are lingering nigh,
To breathe upon my longing soul
A last and farewell sigh.
Although bright flowers are round thee
And music's voice is heard,
I know that other things than these
Thy spirit's depths have stirred;
Tho' summer skies are fair,
And soft streams murmur there,
When the echoes of thy footsteps fall
On the untroubled air.
And music's voice is heard,
I know that other things than these
Thy spirit's depths have stirred;
Tho' summer skies are fair,
And soft streams murmur there,
When the echoes of thy footsteps fall
On the untroubled air.
O, come! there is no music
Like the voice of those we love;
There are no skies so fair as these
Our own green land above;
Long have we watched for thee,
Thy welcome smile to see,
And for the coming of thy sail
Across the dark blue sea!
Like the voice of those we love;
There are no skies so fair as these
Our own green land above;
Long have we watched for thee,
Thy welcome smile to see,
And for the coming of thy sail
Across the dark blue sea!