hallowed ground.
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But now, a holier task is mine;
A daughter's heart would pay
This grateful tribute, while she weaves
A short and simple lay.
A daughter's heart would pay
This grateful tribute, while she weaves
A short and simple lay.
I was too young to know my loss,
When my own mother died;
But well I learned to prize the worth
Of this one by her side.
When my own mother died;
But well I learned to prize the worth
Of this one by her side.
Sister! do yon remember, dear,
The last sad hour we kept
Our nightly vigils round her bed,
And watched while others slept?
The last sad hour we kept
Our nightly vigils round her bed,
And watched while others slept?
Yes,—though to distant lands you go,
To many a distant spot,—
I know the memory of that hour
Will never be forgot.
To many a distant spot,—
I know the memory of that hour
Will never be forgot.
But as the ancients would embalm
Their friends, when life has fled,
So we will bear within our hearts
The memory of the dead.
Their friends, when life has fled,
So we will bear within our hearts
The memory of the dead.
