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68 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE. |
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Yet rest, though no tear o'er thy pillow may fall, In that far distant place of repose ;
Best, where the lonely sea-bird's call Is heard when the ocean-wind blows.
It is nothing to thee where thy ashes rest, For thy warfare on earth is now o'er;
And thy spirit has gone to its home with the blest, On that happy and heavenly shore.
me.
"THY BROTHER SHALL RISE AGAIN."
When shall he rise ?
Not when sleeping flowers awake, And streamlets from their bondage break, And vernal zephyrs, free of wing, Their new-born sweetness round us fling; "While Nature's tones, he loved so well, Around his lowly pillow swell—
Not then shall he awake.
When shall he rise ?
Not when round his native hearth Mingle former tones of mirth; Nor when something whispers lone Of a step—a look—a tone; Nor when tears, that fondly swell, Show he is remember'd well—
Not then shall he awake. |
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