University of Virginia Library

'Twas morning over Cuba's hills, and from her woods was heard,
And from the leafy copses nigh, the song of many a bird;
The mountain tops with crimson light were blushing all around,
And the early dew was glistening o'er all the blooming ground.
Wild colts were sporting on the plains in freedom, unconfined,
And melody from mountain brooks came on the scented wind;
The winds that kissed the lovely scene and spread its fragrance wide,
Showed the white lining of the leaves along the forest side.
There, as I cheered my plodding mule along the rugged way,
Sung at a shaded cottage door, I heard this tender lay:
“Come back, thou partner of my youth; come back again to me,—
Why hast thou left thy cottage side to roam the trackless sea?
The ruddy light that shines at morn, and fills my leafy bower,
And comes with crimson hues again at twilight's quiet hour,
Is sweeter to my fading eye than all the shining store
That thou canst bring from ocean ships to glisten on the shore.
Thou didst not talk of cruel war when first I met thy look,
Where woven boughs hang darkly o'er my childhood's merry brook;
And when our nuptial vow was made, I did not dream of this,
For thou didst tell of many years of innocence and bliss
Spent lovingly within our bower of olive and of palm,
Where the green slope looks down upon the ocean's glassy calm.
Thy laughing boy, who played and smiled, and prattled on thy knee,
Leaves the young spaniel by the door, and comes and talks of thee.
O, come from roaming on the main, thy glad return I'll greet,
And our young boy shall bound away thy coming steps to meet.
The smile that lights his clear dark eye and dimples in his face,
Shall tell thee with how glad a heart he gives his still embrace;
And he shall climb thy knee again to listen to thy voice,
And its remembered tones shall make his little heart rejoice.
O, didst thou know the grief I feel, and my heart's loneliness,
How soon would thy returning steps my humble cottage bless.
Hours pass, and days, and weary months, and years glide slowly by:
I gaze, but still thy coming form meets not my longing eye.
But still I know that thou wilt come, and joy shall bless the hour
In which thy well-known footsteps press the green turf of my bower;
If cheerful smiles have left thy cheek amid the throng of men,
To see thy home, and lovely boy, shall call them back again.”