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62 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE.
Hark his voice in tones of love, Which the hardest heart could move; " Feed my lambs."
Those who bear my impress here, Lambs that roam this desert drear—. How they pant for living streams, Where eternal sunshine gleams!
"Feed my lambs."
1847.
FAREWELL TO SPRING.
Sweet Spring, is thy departure near ? .. And dost thou pass so soon away ? Is this thy farewell voice I hear— Thy last sweet note of melody ?
Is this thy last sweet farewell smile That sheds its radiance round me now ?
Is this thy last sweet balmy breath That gently fans my anxious brow ?
It is, sweet Spring ! Farewell—farewell!
We may no longer hold thee here— E'en now I hear thy sounding knell,
And see thee on thy passing bier.
'Twas ere this heart knew aught of grief,
Or wept, save for my short-lived flowers--'Twas then, sweet Spring, I wept for thee, 'Twas then I mourn'd thy fleeting hours. |
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