 | The forest minstrel |  |
217
THE MAIDEN TO HER MOTHER.
Oh, let me die, dear mother,
With my head upon thy breast,
Thus sinking in thy loving arms
To sweet unbroken rest.
Look on me with thy loving eyes,
Thou need'st not hide the tears,
But let me see the loving smile
That blessed my sunny years.
With my head upon thy breast,
Thus sinking in thy loving arms
To sweet unbroken rest.
Look on me with thy loving eyes,
Thou need'st not hide the tears,
But let me see the loving smile
That blessed my sunny years.
Oh, bless thee for the sorrow
That heaves thy gentle heart,
I would not have thee cold and calm
The while my lifestrings part;
No—let me feel the tear and smile
That speak thy yearning love,—
A love almost as pure as that
To which I now remove.
That heaves thy gentle heart,
I would not have thee cold and calm
The while my lifestrings part;
No—let me feel the tear and smile
That speak thy yearning love,—
A love almost as pure as that
To which I now remove.
But do not mourn, dear mother,
When all my pains are o'er,
And grief, and wrong, and bitterness,
Can come to me no more.
Oh, never wish me back to earth,
Where all sweet blossoms fade,
And where the brightest form of joy
Is followed by a shade.
When all my pains are o'er,
And grief, and wrong, and bitterness,
Can come to me no more.
Oh, never wish me back to earth,
Where all sweet blossoms fade,
And where the brightest form of joy
Is followed by a shade.
218
I would not stay, dear mother,
Till blight and sorrow come,
Till disappointment, care, and pain,
Have made my breast their home;
Then let me die now, mother dear,
Encircled by thy love,
And pass from thy sweet home below,
To God's pure home above.
Till blight and sorrow come,
Till disappointment, care, and pain,
Have made my breast their home;
Then let me die now, mother dear,
Encircled by thy love,
And pass from thy sweet home below,
To God's pure home above.
| The forest minstrel | |