Читать книгу Spider-webs in Verse: A Collection of Lyrics for Leisure Moments, Spun at Idle Hours - Charles William Wallace - Страница 20

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Sweet bird, sitting so sad singing your song there on the limb alone,

Why make all the sad world sympathize with every mournful tone?

Ah yes! weep then, my dear, over the loss of the dear one you love:

All hearts weep with you, dear, weep for some heart lured to the land above.

Yet not even the deep river of tears rolls from the heart the stone;

No, naught save the white-robed Angel of Hope born of the soul alone.

O dove! mourning alone, croon to the moon over the one you love;

O soul! Hope is thine own, throned in the white dome of thy home above!