 | Fifty lyrical ballads |  |
14
'TWAS A FRIEND OF MY EARLY YOUTH.
'Twas a Friend of my early youth
That I met in a foreign land,
I knew him not—but thought I touch'd
A passing stranger's hand!
But the spell of the voice can never end;
He spoke—and I knew my early friend.
That I met in a foreign land,
I knew him not—but thought I touch'd
A passing stranger's hand!
But the spell of the voice can never end;
He spoke—and I knew my early friend.
Oh! that voice did revive again
All the feelings of other years,
The smile of welcome died away—
The word—was lost in tears;
He spoke—'twas a voice from my home I hear'd,
And it struck my heart's most sensitive chord.
All the feelings of other years,
The smile of welcome died away—
The word—was lost in tears;
He spoke—'twas a voice from my home I hear'd,
And it struck my heart's most sensitive chord.
| Fifty lyrical ballads | |