YE SAY THEY ALL HAVE PASSED AWAY.
Lydia Huntley Sigourney. Wellington Guernsey.
Moderato. (Air: I'll hang my harp on a willow tree.)
 | A musical score should appear at this position in the text. See Help:Sheet music for formatting instructions |
Ye say they all have pass'd a - way, That no - ble race and brave,
'Tis where On - ta - rio's bil - low Like o - cean's surge is curl'd,
Ye say their cone-like cab - ins That clus-ter'd o'er the vale,
Old Mas - sa - chnsetts wears it With-in her lord-ly crown,
Wa-chu-sett hides its lin-g'ring voice With-in his rocky heart,
That their light ca - noes have van - ish'd From off the crest-ed wave.
Where strong Ni - ag-a-ra's thunders wake The ech -oes of the world,
Have dis - ap-pear'd, as wither'd leaves Be - fore the autumn gale;
And broad O - hi - o bears it A - mid his young re-nown;
And Al - le - gha - ny graves its tone Thro'out his loft-y chart;
That, mid the for - ests where they roam'd, There rings no hun - ter's shout;
Where red Mis-sou - ri bring - eth Rich tri - bute from the west,
But their mem'ry liv - eth on your hills. Their bap-tism on your shore,
Con - nect-i - cut hath wreath'd it Where her qui - et foli - age waves.
Mo - uad-nock,on his fore-head hoar, Doth seal the sa - cred trust;
But their name is on your riv - ers. Ye may not wash it out.
And Rap - pa - han - nock sweetly sleeps On green Virgi - nia's breast,
Your ev - er -last-ing riv-ers speak Their di- a - lect of yore.
And bold Ken-tuck-y breathes it hoarse Thro' all her an - cient caves.
Your moun - tains build their mon-u-ments, Tho' ye destroy their dust.
