 | The Music of Stephen C. Foster . |  |
8
GENTLE ANNIE.
[1]
Thou wilt come no more, gentle Annie,Like a flower thy spirit did depart;
Thou art gone, alas! like the many
That have bloomed in the summer of my heart.
CHORUS.
Shall we never more behold thee; never hear thy winning voice again—When the Springtime comes, gentle Annie,
When the wild flowers are scattered o'er the plain?
[2]
We have roamed and loved mid the bowersWhen thy downy cheeks were in their bloom;
Now I stand alone mid the flowers
While they mingle their perfumes o'er thy tomb.
Chorus.
[3]
Ah! the hours grow sad while I ponderNear the silent spot where thou art laid,
And my heart bows down when I wander
By the streams and the meadows where we strayed.
Chorus.
| The Music of Stephen C. Foster . | |