THE ENTREATY OF RUTH.
Why wouldst thou banish from thy side
One, who can ne'er forget thy care?
Who in thy home would fain abide,
Or all thy weary wanderings share?—
Say'st thou, alas!—no home is thine?—
Then where the wild blast wrecks the tree,
Where forests frown, or brambles twine,
My Mother! I will dwell with thee.
Yes.—Yes.—O'er mountain, stream and hill,
Fast by thy steps my feet shall tread,
The same pure fount our cup shall fill,
The same lone cavern be our bed:—
This hand shall strew thy thorny road
With dear affection's filial flowers,
One God,—one people,—one abode,—
One grave,—one burial shall be ours.