214
THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.
O say! does the footstep yet linger in love,
Does a kind hand still strew the sweet flowers,
Do the stars look lovingly down from above,
On those far distant graves of ours?
They are ours forever, though years have passed by
Since we gazed on that island of green;
They are ours forever, though many and high
Are the waves that roll darkly between.
Does a kind hand still strew the sweet flowers,
Do the stars look lovingly down from above,
On those far distant graves of ours?
They are ours forever, though years have passed by
Since we gazed on that island of green;
They are ours forever, though many and high
Are the waves that roll darkly between.
O! sad was the hour when we bade thee adieu,
Where our brothers yet tranquilly sleep,
"When over the waters our gallant ship flew,
As if proud of her home on the deep.
Yet our hearts, as we thought on those desolate graves,
Still sadder and heavier grew,
When beneath us was nought but an ocean of waves,
Nought above but an ocean of blue.
Where our brothers yet tranquilly sleep,
"When over the waters our gallant ship flew,
As if proud of her home on the deep.
Yet our hearts, as we thought on those desolate graves,
Still sadder and heavier grew,
When beneath us was nought but an ocean of waves,
Nought above but an ocean of blue.
But a few days had passed, when we stood on the deck
While the daylight's first blushes were born;
Above us, in heaven, not even a speck
Disturbed the calm beauty of morn;
Yet sadly we gazed on that heaven of blue,
And mournfully down on the deep,
As on, like a sea-bird, our gallant ship flew,
Scarce waking the waves from their sleep.
While the daylight's first blushes were born;
Above us, in heaven, not even a speck
Disturbed the calm beauty of morn;
Yet sadly we gazed on that heaven of blue,
And mournfully down on the deep,
As on, like a sea-bird, our gallant ship flew,
Scarce waking the waves from their sleep.
