OH! ASK NOT WHY.
Oh! ask not why that her guitar remains unstrung,
Of the lone stranger within thy gate.
Her native songs in a strange land can not be sung,
The spirit chords would break, not vibrate.
Perhaps a gentle hand might tune the loosened strings,
Lift from the weary soul its shade of gloom,
For there's no life but round it ever clings
Some hope that still awaits the rain to bloom.
Of the lone stranger within thy gate.
Her native songs in a strange land can not be sung,
The spirit chords would break, not vibrate.
Perhaps a gentle hand might tune the loosened strings,
Lift from the weary soul its shade of gloom,
For there's no life but round it ever clings
Some hope that still awaits the rain to bloom.
So to the stranger speak kind words of cheer,
For thou a wanderer yet may be;
Sealed is the future, and this life at best is drear;
Darker woes than hers may come to thee.
And souls that yearn in vain for some kind words of love
In splendor's throng desolate would be.
No balm, no costly gifts to weeping minds can prove
As sweet a solace as charity.
For thou a wanderer yet may be;
Sealed is the future, and this life at best is drear;
Darker woes than hers may come to thee.
And souls that yearn in vain for some kind words of love
In splendor's throng desolate would be.
No balm, no costly gifts to weeping minds can prove
As sweet a solace as charity.