I love to muse at the old hillside,
Where oft we've sported in girlish pride,
With brothers and sisters all so gay,
Have whiled the weary hours away.
TO SISTER SARAH.
I love to muse at the old hillside,
Where oft we've sported in girlish pride,
With brothers and sisters all so gay,
Have whiled the weary hours away.
Alas, how soon those blissful hours
Have passed away like drooping flowers!
And our dear mother from earth has gone;
Come back, dear sister, we want you home.
Have passed away like drooping flowers!
And our dear mother from earth has gone;
Come back, dear sister, we want you home.
A sister's tears oft flow for thee,
Whene'er I pray on bended knee,—
My fervent prayers are wafted above
To greet our mother with filial love.
Whene'er I pray on bended knee,—
My fervent prayers are wafted above
To greet our mother with filial love.
Ah me! the weary days pass by;
No news from the spirit-world on high;
While I am left dejected and lone.
Come back, dear sister, we want you home.
No news from the spirit-world on high;
While I am left dejected and lone.
Come back, dear sister, we want you home.
I feel the loss of our mother dear;
This world to me is sad and drear,
For earthly love is heartless and cold;
'Tis bought and sold with silver and gold.
This world to me is sad and drear,
For earthly love is heartless and cold;
'Tis bought and sold with silver and gold.
'Tis not such love my heart would crave;
But a mother's love now cold in the grave.
My sister, I'm ever longing for thee!
Come back, dear sister, from over the sea.
But a mother's love now cold in the grave.
My sister, I'm ever longing for thee!
Come back, dear sister, from over the sea.