stanzas.
63
And oft will the stranger's careless foot
Pass the lone and sad spot by,
Nor think of one who came so far
From his native land—to die!
Pass the lone and sad spot by,
Nor think of one who came so far
From his native land—to die!
Oh, sad was the day and fatal the hour,
When his spirit sighed to roam;
When he turned from the dear and sacred joys,
That clustered around his home!
When his spirit sighed to roam;
When he turned from the dear and sacred joys,
That clustered around his home!
