 | Avenging the Maine |  |
72
MY SONG.
Why was I born if this ends all,
All that I'll ever be;
To feel a spirit that's divine,
No chance to let it free.
All that I'll ever be;
To feel a spirit that's divine,
No chance to let it free.
Unfortunate seems now my port,
Drifting on poverty's sea;
The chains of need have bound me fast,
Oh! would that I was free.
Drifting on poverty's sea;
The chains of need have bound me fast,
Oh! would that I was free.
I'm struggling daily for the shore,
The sea is vast and wide;
And when I stop to sing my lays,
I'm threatened by the tide.
The sea is vast and wide;
And when I stop to sing my lays,
I'm threatened by the tide.
But if these rugged lays I've sung,
Should cause some heart to move,
And bring to me freedom
How could I then but love!
Should cause some heart to move,
And bring to me freedom
How could I then but love!
Accept these lays to you I bring,
A token of my art;
Jangling though they seem to be
Remember 'tis a start.
A token of my art;
Jangling though they seem to be
Remember 'tis a start.
| Avenging the Maine | |