In Memory of my Father.
DEAR father mine, thy grave is far away—
Soft, sunny skies, bend warm and lovingly
Above thy dreamless slumber, and the waves
Of a far southern stream sweep by, and bear
In their low tones a message and a sigh
From thy unhappy child.
Soft, sunny skies, bend warm and lovingly
Above thy dreamless slumber, and the waves
Of a far southern stream sweep by, and bear
In their low tones a message and a sigh
From thy unhappy child.
My father dear,
These eyes have never gazed upon thy grave,
These hands have never taught the sweet Spring-rose
To bloom on that neglected spot; but
Within my soul there is a holy flower,
A flower perennial, watered with my tears,
And kissed to bloom by the sweet beam of love—
These eyes have never gazed upon thy grave,
These hands have never taught the sweet Spring-rose
To bloom on that neglected spot; but
Within my soul there is a holy flower,
A flower perennial, watered with my tears,
And kissed to bloom by the sweet beam of love—
