A SONG.
Tune,—Mrs. Robinson's Farewell.
Tell me not of joys departed,
Or of childhood's happy hour!
When unconsciously I sported,
Fresh as morning's dewy flower!
Or of childhood's happy hour!
When unconsciously I sported,
Fresh as morning's dewy flower!
Tell me not of fair hopes blasted,
Or of unrequited love!
Tell me not of fortune wasted,
Or the web which Fate hath wove!
Or of unrequited love!
Tell me not of fortune wasted,
Or the web which Fate hath wove!
One fond wish I long have cherished,
I have twined it round my heart!
While all other hopes have perished,
I with #%at could never part.
I have twined it round my heart!
While all other hopes have perished,
I with #%at could never part.
On life's troubled, stormy ocean
That bright star still shone serene?
To that star, my heart's devotion
Rose, at morning and at e'en!
That bright star still shone serene?
To that star, my heart's devotion
Rose, at morning and at e'en!
And the hope that led me onward,
Like a beacon shining bright,
Was—that when this form had mouldered,
I might wake to realms of light!
Like a beacon shining bright,
Was—that when this form had mouldered,
I might wake to realms of light!
