OUR NATIVE SONG.
I help'd to weave their daisy chains,
I wreath'd their waving hair;
And, pleased as they, 'twere hard to tell
Which heart was happiest there.
I wreath'd their waving hair;
And, pleased as they, 'twere hard to tell
Which heart was happiest there.
I bless'd them all; and much I doubt
If Time will ever bring
Words to my ear more musical
Than children's welcoming.
If Time will ever bring
Words to my ear more musical
Than children's welcoming.
OUR NATIVE SONG.
Our Native Song,—our Native Song!
Oh, where is he who loves it not?
The spell it holds is deep and strong,
Where'er we go, whate'er our lot.
Let other music greet our ear
With thrilling fire or dulcet tone;
We speak to praise, we pause to hear,
But yet—oh yet—tis not our own!
The anthem chant, the ballad wild,
The notes that we remember long—
The theme we sung with lisping tongue—
'Tis this we love—our Native Song!
Oh, where is he who loves it not?
The spell it holds is deep and strong,
Where'er we go, whate'er our lot.
Let other music greet our ear
With thrilling fire or dulcet tone;
We speak to praise, we pause to hear,
But yet—oh yet—tis not our own!
The anthem chant, the ballad wild,
The notes that we remember long—
The theme we sung with lisping tongue—
'Tis this we love—our Native Song!
The one who bears the felon's brand,
With moody brow and darken'd name,
Thrust meanly from his father-land,
To languish out a life of shame;
With moody brow and darken'd name,
Thrust meanly from his father-land,
To languish out a life of shame;
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