88 YEARS OF DISCIPLINE. [1843,
Yet tliou wast cheery still ; .
They could not quench thy fire ; Thou didst abide their will,
And then retire.
Where chiefly shall I look
To feel thy presence near ? Along 1 the neighboring brook
May I thy voice still hear ?
Dost thou still haunt the brink
Of yonder river s tide ? And may I ever think
That thou art by my side ?
What bird wilt thou employ
To bring 1 me word of thee ? For it would give them joy,
T would give them liberty, To serve their former lord
With wing and minstrelsy.
A sadder strain mixed with their song, They ve slowlier built their nests ;
Since thou art gone
Their lively labor rests.
Where is the finch, the thrush
I used to hear ? Ah, they could well abide
The dying year.
Now they no more return,
I hear them not ; They have remained to mourn ;
Or else forgot.
