 | The Music of Stephen C. Foster . |  |
125
OUR WILLIE DEAR IS DYING.
1.
Our Willie, dear, is dying, love,And thou art far away;
His little breath is sighing, love,
And cannot last till day.
Tonight while sitting by his side
I heard him speak of thee—
My father's coming home, he said, with presents bright for me.
Come—with an eagle's flight,
Come—like a beam of light,
Come love, come home tonight;
Our Willie dear is dying—
2.
His blooming cheeks have faded, love,The light has left his brow;
His eyes are dim'd and shaded, love,
You would not know him now.
And when the fever rages,
With a sad and restless moan,
His feeble voice then warns us there is death within that tone.
Come—with an eagle's flight,
Come—like a beam of light,
Come love, come home to night;
Our Willie dear is dying—
3
No grief that e'er befell me, love,Could cause this heart such pain;
Though neighbours kindly tell me, love,
He may get well again.
But a mother's heart is watchful
All the life has left his eyes;—
Oh come to night and weep with me before our darling dies.
Come with an eagles flight,
Come like a beam of light,
Come, love, come home tonight;
Our Willie dear is dying.
| The Music of Stephen C. Foster . | |