IN MEMORY OF MY FATHER.
103
E'er fall upon her life like those which rest
So dark on mine.
So dark on mine.
Oh father, my poor heart
Is lone and sad to-night. In agony
'Tis calling to thee in thy distant grave.
I am an orphan lone, and, when my brow
Is fevered and my heart oppressed, I fain
Would fly to thee; I would pour out my grief
Beside thy mouldering ashes; I would weep
Beside the cold grave-stone, and on the ear
Of Death would breathe a stricken daughter's woe.
My spirit calls to thine—oh come to me
In this lone hour, and let me know once more
A father's holy love. Ah, now a strange
Mysterious thrill comes o'er my soul; I feel
A spirit's presence father, is it thine!
Yes, it is thine, I see thee, and through all
The trembling fibres of my frame I feel
That hallowed kiss. Stay, blessed father, stay,
And leave me never more alone on this
Is lone and sad to-night. In agony
'Tis calling to thee in thy distant grave.
I am an orphan lone, and, when my brow
Is fevered and my heart oppressed, I fain
Would fly to thee; I would pour out my grief
Beside thy mouldering ashes; I would weep
Beside the cold grave-stone, and on the ear
Of Death would breathe a stricken daughter's woe.
My spirit calls to thine—oh come to me
In this lone hour, and let me know once more
A father's holy love. Ah, now a strange
Mysterious thrill comes o'er my soul; I feel
A spirit's presence father, is it thine!
Yes, it is thine, I see thee, and through all
The trembling fibres of my frame I feel
That hallowed kiss. Stay, blessed father, stay,
And leave me never more alone on this
