 | Nacoochee ; or, the beautiful star, with other Poems |  |
SONG OF THE DYING SOLDIER.
The fountains are streaming, are streaming
With music, dear Mary! for thee!
Thy cheeks, too, are beaming, are beaming
With sadness, dear Mary! for me!
For we never shall meet
On that cool mossy seat,
Where wild weeds are growing, are growing!
But, although we must part,
Thou shalt dwell with my heart,
Where rose-buds are blowing, are blowing.
With music, dear Mary! for thee!
Thy cheeks, too, are beaming, are beaming
With sadness, dear Mary! for me!
For we never shall meet
On that cool mossy seat,
Where wild weeds are growing, are growing!
But, although we must part,
Thou shalt dwell with my heart,
Where rose-buds are blowing, are blowing.
73
Oh! hush then thy weeping, thy weeping
With sorrow, dear Mary! for me!
My dark locks are steeping, are steeping
In warm tears, dear Mary! for thee!
For we never shall meet
On that cool mossy seat,
Where wild weeds are growing, are growing!
But, alas! do not care—
Thou shalt dwell with me there,
Where rose-buds are blowing, are blowing.
With sorrow, dear Mary! for me!
My dark locks are steeping, are steeping
In warm tears, dear Mary! for thee!
For we never shall meet
On that cool mossy seat,
Where wild weeds are growing, are growing!
But, alas! do not care—
Thou shalt dwell with me there,
Where rose-buds are blowing, are blowing.
Thy young cheeks are fading, are fading
With sorrow, dear Mary! for me!
For Death now is shading, is shading
My spirit, dear Mary! from thee!
For we never shall meet
On that cool mossy seat,
Where wild weeds are growing, are growing!
Then adieu!—we must part—
Thou shalt dwell with my heart,
Where we now are going—are going!
With sorrow, dear Mary! for me!
For Death now is shading, is shading
My spirit, dear Mary! from thee!
For we never shall meet
On that cool mossy seat,
Where wild weeds are growing, are growing!
Then adieu!—we must part—
Thou shalt dwell with my heart,
Where we now are going—are going!
| Nacoochee ; or, the beautiful star, with other Poems | |