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"SELMA".
Are the ghosts of joyous memories
All that is left to me,
To cheer me, when the weary heart
Hath almost ceased to he?
All that is left to me,
To cheer me, when the weary heart
Hath almost ceased to he?
In my lonely vigil hours,
I have thought of thee, until
I heard the rushing of thy streams
Through all my bosom thrill.
And my spirit seemed a thing of air,
Borne from the earth away,
While the sound of pinions sweeping by,
Broke on the ear of day.
I have thought of thee, until
I heard the rushing of thy streams
Through all my bosom thrill.
And my spirit seemed a thing of air,
Borne from the earth away,
While the sound of pinions sweeping by,
Broke on the ear of day.
Give me some kindly message,
From the worshiped ones of old;
I cannot think that every heart
Is cold, is deathly cold!
Enough there are within the grave,
Enough in distant climes,
To bring a chill upon a heart
That dreams of olden times.
From the worshiped ones of old;
I cannot think that every heart
Is cold, is deathly cold!
Enough there are within the grave,
Enough in distant climes,
To bring a chill upon a heart
That dreams of olden times.
I have gazed upon thy heaven,
And, perchance, have shed a tear,
Seeing with grief some exiled star
Descend and disappear.
Was it a fallen child of light,
Flung from the heaven above—
From everlasting happiness,
From everlasting love?
And, perchance, have shed a tear,
Seeing with grief some exiled star
Descend and disappear.
Was it a fallen child of light,
Flung from the heaven above—
From everlasting happiness,
From everlasting love?
