 | Songs and ballads |  |
THE NIGHT HATH GONE.
The night hath gone at last, mother,
The long, long night of pain;
But life is ebbing fast, mother,
And all your care is vain.
Methought I heard his footstep
Beyond the gate below;
Slow pacing through the midnight—
And stepping to and fro.
The long, long night of pain;
But life is ebbing fast, mother,
And all your care is vain.
Methought I heard his footstep
Beyond the gate below;
Slow pacing through the midnight—
And stepping to and fro.
I see 't is not believed, mother,
My words no faith impart;
My ear might be deceived, mother,
But not my heart—my heart!
And hark, 't is there again, mother—
Again, and yet more nigh;
Oh! let me see his face, mother,
Once more before I die.
My words no faith impart;
My ear might be deceived, mother,
But not my heart—my heart!
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Again, and yet more nigh;
Oh! let me see his face, mother,
Once more before I die.
He opens not the door, mother,
The latch it is not there;—
Go, call him to step softly,
He's waiting on the stair:—
He's waiting—weeping—hark! mother,
What is it he doth say?
She gazed—and thus in gazing...
Her sweet life passed away!
The latch it is not there;—
Go, call him to step softly,
He's waiting on the stair:—
He's waiting—weeping—hark! mother,
What is it he doth say?
She gazed—and thus in gazing...
Her sweet life passed away!
| Songs and ballads | |