Читать книгу The Liberty Minstrel - George Washington Clark - Страница 8

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Words by Miss Chandler. Music by G.W.C.

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Ye've gone from me, my gentle ones!

With all your shouts of mirth;

A silence is within my walls,

A darkness round my hearth,

A darkness round my hearth.

Woe to the hearts that heard, unmoved,

The mother's anguish'd shriek!

And mock'd, with taunting scorn, the tears

That bathed a father's cheek.

Woe to the hands that tore you hence,

My innocent and good!

Not e'en the tigress of the wild,

Thus tears her fellow's brood.

I list to hear your soft sweet tones,

Upon the morning air;

I gaze amidst the twilight's gloom,

As if to find you there.

But you no more come bounding forth

To meet me in your glee;

And when the evening shadows fall,

Ye are not at my knee.

Your forms are aye before my eyes,

Your voices on my ear,

And all things wear a thought of you,

But you no more are here.

You were the glory of my life,

My blessing and my pride!

I half forgot the name of slave,

When you were by my side!

Woe for your lot, ye doom'd ones! woe

A seal is on your fate!

And shame, and toil, and wretchedness,

On all your steps await!