COL. HARPER P. HUNT.
245
And when the sweet valley of girlhood Unfolded its bloom to my view,His love gave to every flower A richer and ruddier hue.At last when in womanhood's sorrows I bent under storm after storm,I found in his bosom a shelter, Strong like his own heart and as warm.
I press my hands over my temples, And staggering, sink to the floor,With my very soul steeped in the yearning To look on my father once more.Only to see him and kiss him, To lay my head down on his breast,Where always before in my trouble I found so much comfort and rest.Alas! all my impotent weeping, My heart-broken yearnings are vain;On earth I shall never, oh! never, Look on my dear father again.
He has lifted the veil from the future, Has laid down the burden of years;
